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short poem

eu estou morrendo
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
ruídos que strive rasgar
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
em seus regimentals ásperos
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
de nossos lugares escondidos
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly

 



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