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footprint poem

o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma măo
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coraçăo da pedra
rosas e ouro
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
raça elevado-carregada
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
era o outono do ano
e păo do breaketh mais
pela ponte rude
é verdadeiro que vocę diz que os deuses lhe săo mais uso do que fairies
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcăo
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro

 



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