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pumpkin poem

eu sou o vento que wavers
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
acima de e para baixo vai
balançado no berço do profundo
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
lá pela janela na casa velha
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens

 



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