Suffering of my words

If it was only the wine that got me drunk, I would have liked to participate in the drink of the century, but my heart does not allow it.
If your time is only a hobby and the leaves have died over time, then you are making yourself a criminal.
If your soul finds itself submerged by the streams of your tears you will always be unhappy.

This poem is dedicated to everyone, seeking enlightenment in the past.
If focusing on misfortunes makes me unhappy then why am I not already a millionaire?
Yes ! I have done my time, as J.C. says, (I came, I saw and I lived).
I would not like to be in the place of the one who cries, not because I am not compassionate but, because I totally ignore his reason.

 I would like to see my feet in the wet land, too bad it rains every time so, even my hair participates in it.
If my suffering is worth money then why aren't my joys worth the whole world?
 If my trouble is worth the ads then why does my happiness transcend me?
 If my pain is only pity for others then my life is detrimental.

This poem is dedicated to the one whose heart is broken, but who will find peace and happiness in the depths of his soul.
Destroy the stone to turn into dust so why does my bruised body remain unchanged? So well that the world turns, very well that my life turns around.
I write my tears as a pledge to remind you that life is not made of pain, but of all those who are broken or not who sneak in somehow to build themselves up and make their misadventure a poem of love