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friend poetry

diga-me não
era uma beleza nos dias
têm você ouvido
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
sobre o rio, no monte
escute o mar soando
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
ainda treze anos
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade

 



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