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romantic love poem

je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
un dieu
j'ai fait un voeu par le passé, un seulement
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
travails de la terre
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
ce que je souhaite remarquer
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
il parle pas bien

 



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