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  • Ríkisstjórn Name: Marco Miguel Robertson
  • Kennitala: 62151-066
  • Aldur:38
  • Tími Borið:15 + ár.
  • Home Town:Laurel, MD
  • Setning:LIFE +24 ár.
  • Núverandi Hleðsla:Murder
  • Alias:Marco Miguel
  • Útgáfudagur:Leita eftir sannfæringu léttir
  • Prison Tengsl:Rétttrúnaðar Sunni múslima
  • Hring áhrifum:Tewhan Butler
  • Stofnun:USP Lewisburg (SMU)
  • Ég er Maryland State Fangi í sérstökum Stjórn Unit of sambands fangelsi kerfi í fimmtánda ári lífs + 24-ári setning. Nope, Ekkert það var þess virði!

Á ást ég lít

Ég lít á ást gegnum gluggann, á björtu skína sólar, sem snúast rotations hugleiðingar mömmu koma stöðugt upp í hugann, í tíma ef ég ætla að brjóta frjáls, og vera við hliðina mömmu, þar sem við munum stara á sama skína sem nú kemur niður á mig.

Ég lít á ást gegnum holur sama glugga er, eins og það er ekki ber gler, fastur á varanlegum fjarlægð, Ég veit ekki prettiness himins, Ég óska ​​eftir að knúsa og halda, bara ef ég gæti höndlað það, I would embrace it so tight, with my every might, aldrei láta fara.

I look at love on my plain, but stained wall of about eight feet, dizzily dreaming, I stumble upon a gaze, in my rattled brain, that features bold visions of a newborn boy, the mini twin of me, gleefully chattering baby talk to his caring Mommy, the wife of me, it’s them who will possess and own my flesh and bones, no matter how old or lame I become, and may be.

Painfully, I look at love, as I blackout momentarily experiencing the evil of the blue eyed wickedness, upon my God given brown skin, then in soothing strokes of encouragement tending to match complexions similar to mine, I look at love in struggle feeling I’m close to death, as I taste my saliva, realizing I’m capable of dying via violence.

I look at love still wanting to climb and change, placing the past behind, stuck with thoughts of my killing, by those blue eyes, whom feel they’re sublime, based in a foundation of hate wielding anger, I’ll continue to look at love, though here it’s definitely a stranger. Please look at love, as you see me in faith, we will believe, while bouncing rays of hope, bounce from you to me.

Guð reiðubúinn, we’ll meet, and look at each other love, while I drift into slipping thoughts of looking at love tomorrow, hoping I won’t forget it today, full of hollow sorrow. I’ll look at love, as I remember it’s existence past, long gone. Elska, Ég, look at you deeply.

Marco Miguel Could Sure Use Some Love!!! 🙂

Poem By Marco Miguel

  

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