Nunca me prendi à métrica
Dos poemas tradicionais
Tão sem fuga e irreais
Tão sem graça, tão patéticas
Sempre fui um dos adeptos
Dos poemas sem fronteiras
Pois eu cria que as maneiras
Cerceavam os intelectos
Mas bastou surgir você
Circundada de inocência
Nessas eras de aparência
Fez-me o todo entremecer
Foi então que percebi
Que o poema que lhe dei
Não declama o que pensei
Quando entreguei-lhe a ti
E cheirando teus cabelos
Ví que Tu representavas
O que eu tanto criticava
A beleza dos modelos
Culpa da Dirce 
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A felicidade é uma dádiva que somente os justos alcançam. O maior modelo que já existiu, morreu com pregos na mão.
Tds as vezes nos deixamos levar por aparência…
O problema não é o modelo e sim a perfeição que emana dele.
Mas modelos sofrem,amam, sorriem e as vezes, só as vezes são felizes.
Adorei. muito bom mesmo!!!!!!!!!!!!!
É realmente muito bonito… Parabéns!!!
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