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poetry for kid

wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
ich bin in das Ödland gekommen, weil meine Seele athirst ist
ein Nebel fuhr unten
in den mournful Zahlen
ich halte Ihr Herz
einfach sprechend
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
von der Sonne noch Sterne
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
was spiteful Wahrscheinlichkeit unawares stiehlt
um Mitternacht
ein dünner grauer Schatten auf dem Rand des Gedankens

 



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