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teen poem

la lumière retirée
vieux vin à boire
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
je descends les chemins de jardin
j'ai vu la première poire
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes

 



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