"levanders" poems
She's coughing blood
So i boil some water
Squeezed from the mud
Used for slaughter
Horrible cries
Coming to my ears
From where she lies
The girl in tears
What kind of power
does a powerless flower
have?
The power of showing its music to the deaf.
So mabye the wreaths,
Made from the levanders, round
Carry my breaths
Back to her lungs in the ground
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC