My memory is like a maze
Lots of people have walked in
And there were they lost

Maybe it was meant to be fun
But these people are now caged in my recordings
And as much as they try to run away
Bigger this maze comes to be

Far away I observe as if comforting it was
To watch so many memories running, wandering, bumping and crashing into each other
Scared by the infinity of my remembrance

This maze is endless
And these people don’t know it
But I need them to escape

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About the Author

Pedro Lino is one of those "nefelibata" kids: that person who lives introverted within their own imagination. Mostly, a polyglot who doesn't speak all that often. In the end, he's nothing but a writer. Still, he occasionally tries to stop writing, but just can't. You may find him daydreaming all along.

Pedro Henrique da Silva Lino
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