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footprint poem

sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
li ho detestati
scattando in su, cadendo
pharaoh, re della terra dell'egitto
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
dite che lo amate
short e dolce ed abbiamo arrivato alla fine di esso
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
quando un atto è fatto per la libertà
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?

 



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