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sad poetry

sono una donna
in tutte le cose non parlate di
noi che si sono levati in piedi
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
scattando in su, cadendo
i giorni hypocritic
ma alas, sogni giusti
quell'anno
scuro-eyed
lungo una riva del fiume
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
le ombre delle navi

 



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