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epic poetry

há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
a escuridão
a neve sussurra sobre mim
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
veja, eles retornam
eu encho este copo
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
era não para esse cheiro singular
alguns dos hurts que você se curou
poderíamos nós mas para saber
fora do profundo e da obscuridade

 



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