Subtitled

Subtitled in my darkest hours
Quick as a lighting bolt
In my veins, growing old
A poet gene's remains

If I left this room told
I, as the written sold,
Come with rummors understands

In my darkest hours...

And even than I run foward
That is a past in these darkest hours
Than in me composes
- Like a pladge - my brain's
Gold,

Till it finally last
Into my gravery past
Just like sand...

Pedro Costa