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death poetry

warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
eine Feder des Stahls
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
die hypocritic Tage
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
die Schwärzung
sie sagte
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
ich halte Ihr Herz
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell

 



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