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teen poem

o que nós fará agora
eu moldei o mundo
sol e vento e batida do mar
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
não gire sua cabeça
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
você ouve a chuva?
qual se mantem
cidade que não é uma cidade
os prayers brancos pequenos
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
sadly falando
o prado estava rastejando
não há nenhum escape pelo rio

 



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