I do not know how to cry, but why do I know it

Well, unknowable, I have read it, who has said that for the sake of whom I have woken up? What did parchachis know? Is she prey? She's going to marry a woman? But where? For whom is this great craving for life? Night and day, the sky and the earth crossed, the cry of the annoyance of that little animal hungry? The person who wants to give away all life to the end, for which the life of death, pain and sorrow and fear of life has been passed. I do not know how to cry, but why do I know it - I know it's tears of sadness to give it. The sadness of God, mother and mother's tears, makes the horror of joy, all our lives as well as pain. But who will take the brother? ... Who will take the brother to me, like the sky of dew, weak, dry, empty, like Bashir biriyam sabalabalabalabalabala - who is he?

I can not say what to speak. The crowd of words in the chest closed, the intense smell of the kidneys has become intensified, but I can not say it yet. How many types of words, they do not have gaps and gaps! I can not kill all the bells like bunts of drowsiness