my youth is a black storm filled with dark clouds and bright suns

the thunder and the rain sweeped all the flowers up




but now i can touch

the falling ideas to gather the flooded lands where the weather dug

holes like graves



i wanna dig my own grave to lie my old bones in it

and sleep in forgetness cause i hate seeing people cry



rather than

the tears from the world i'd like to invite crows and worms to bleed

my filthy shell



sickness and death made cinders with the fire that

blazed for tender eyes in which my heart drowned itself



nothing remains

in my soul but this pale drawing that's as me dying in loneliness



Time eats life as a slow murderer of art a dark ennemy who frets our

hearts



but it won't ever kill my memories that were my delights and

my glories.

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