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sister poem

eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
cara esposa
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
os dias hypocritic
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
o ar é como uma borboleta
para a verdade, para o amor
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
eu amo as configurações melodious velhas
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
como águias na elevação ascendente

 



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