hands that once
were beautiful,
blood spilled today as
Causes of rivers draining
arteries are
alone dropwise
tear to tear, is leaving the life
closing
eyes off the light, sorrow and death are filling
stillness.
The light of hope can not intervene
in the visions, the reasons that led to
follow;
may be stripped of everything but not the
worldview. In my
neat hands and is indeed the desirability of the leg pain
in our bed rise from the breath of life
immaculate.
is a sign of the dark creeping feeling that overwhelms
solitude and thought that alcohol
I calm
frequenting some bars, if the spirits of the dead
called to serve, to look at the starry sky
. My hands never even wilted
had abandoned me,
the hope that moves away
at dawn.
only cold and dark nights
revive your skin touching,
but roses and
not grow back, only
captuz and thorns on the
rocky walk.
On the faces turned to night wandering
exhaling the aroma of fresh death
.
hands For you have set the
way and not be beautiful and soft as
flower gardens. Bewitched
torn and bleed
die in minutes, dressed in mourning
land lying
staring into space again sadness.
is not fate that stops us in
this time, but the pain
affliction of my soul trapped in
defector these hands ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment