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child poetry

il est venu me prendre par la main
ces coeurs ont été tissés des joies et des soins humains
ce qui je vous doivent
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
dernier minuit
je meurs
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
en tant qu'elle
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
nous n'étions pas beaucoup

 



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