sábado, 19 de maio de 2012

The Poetry Is Dead

Broken and torn
No lines to follow
Words are beginnig to fade
There's blood on the floor
White flashes in my head
Followed barren leaves throw the hall

Her familiar scent
Soon I have found
Under the trees we used to play
Covered by the shadow of myself
As we did so many time together
The moon was shinning that night
My withered flower
Her body dryed

Ending scene
Ending theme
Void cover the ending of this
No suite was played after all

Blanked empty space
No more lines to follow
The poetry is dead

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