...::: Poetic Soul :::...

Fate

Wake up, raise, breath..
Day after day an entire life,
finding here find
a true only relation.

I raise to cheer up myself
and happy prepared for my fate
but soon someone comes and says
that I am ugly, poor and weak.

I follow leading my cross
in this fate that was reserved me,
asking to the Lord a light
for me maintain in the road.

I carry with me all of the defects
inclusive some that do not be mine,
but a day we will be you be perfect
to the image and resemblance of God.

If we, the sufferers, we united
ourselves like brothers,
God would relief our pains
doing rain flowers of their hands.

But we fight like lunatics
disputing the each slap victory,
by this is that will be well few
the that will achieve to Its glory.