Ponto e Vírgula

I live in a world made of paper
Everything it touches stains
And that unravels the color in me
I tear a piece of my own sky
To dry the tears
That flow from my guilty face
In me I write my poems
My dilemmas
Every semicolon of the heart
I describe my scene
Written with a pen
The dark ink stains my heart

I am a piece of paper
I know I am stained
I feel crumpled on the ground
Fold and make a plane
But never let me go
I want to fly with you
In your hands