I’ll give up when my bones turns to dust

I’ll surrender when the referee’s lungs turn to glass. 

I’ll call myself a loser when there isn't any other synonym to build me with.

I’ll be carried away by shame when my eyes stop marking the horizon.

I’ll let myself be abused and mistreated by you until you have no face. 

Because I’ll continue carrying this cross until my thorns have thorns, until my blisters have blood, I’ll not give an air more or less even when the sun retires for the year. 

I’ll keep pushing this rock to the peak to leave you in amazement that you thought that everything that you said, did, created a work of ice. 

When, in truth, all you did was to taught me how to roar like mother nature before all this brazenness, because

I’ll give myself for dead when the grim reaper gives me a kiss and hug. 

I’ll give myself for abandoned when my heart cries tears of sweet water

I’ll give myself as last when my feet betray me. 

I’ll give myself done for when the sea becomes a desert and the desert a sea. 

You would have beaten me when my memory becomes the last thing that holds me.

TA.