I hate many things.
not stand rude, cunning and unfair. And I'm sick so many things that if I were to list them all, probably, we'd be here hours.
Days.
painful thoughts as I bleed my graying hair shining in the mirror are reflected in the morning.
Nice way to tell you that you are no longer a boy and that time is gone.
Then you realize that you've always been away from this, almost a prisoner of the past, more educated, in which, perhaps you would find most comfortable. You do
Bogart played, you read Baudelaire on the rocks of the sea in winter, you cried with joy and pain, many have struggled with and have lost many. You may
changed for the better, maybe worse.
not stopped loving you. You have not stopped running, screaming, dreaming.
not you stop pedaling uphill, you've made your selection, you lost companion for any road, any memories.
Do not have regrets, or perhaps yes, and when someone says that we should not regret anything of what has been done, maybe we should stop and regret what was not done.
Rewrite the story to see how it ends.
Change the location advantage of the track stand.
The prelude to the sprint.
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