The door of blood

A glowing sky for a last hesitation of the day. Dying out on the door of blood. Before the night does not extend on the mounts and the valleys. Forsaking the heart of the alive ones. Recovering shroud of the evening the palpitation blown. Pressed to enter on other side of the leaves. To protect itself from the growing cold. Recovering the emaciated bodies. Sauntering in the large mob of the circle of the life. Forever ravaged. Running up against the door of blood. Crashing to pieces itself with the remainders of regrets. Momentary vagrants of so much of years wasted to scorn. Curve of time while believing in immortality. Intoxicating poison. Being distilled in the veins. With this transitory vision to be stronger than all the sorrows. Leaving the traces of their scratches on the carmine of the door of blood.