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death poetry

como águias na elevação ascendente
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
eu encho este copo
gloom
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
dê-me a fome
diz de épocas velhas boas
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
era uma beleza nos dias
quem é o corredor nos céus
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
o alvorecer era verde maçã

 



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