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halloween poem for kid

meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
vinho velho a beber
fala nĂŁo bem
caras bonitas, tragical
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
sĂŁo idos os trĂŞs, aquelas irmĂŁs raras
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
eu olhei em cima do céu glorious
o ar Ă© como uma borboleta
alguns dos hurts que vocĂŞ se curou
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves

 



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