In the mellow sheets of the shredded sunset
Lies the warrior standing on his sheathed swordThere he is, eyes wide shutListening to her singingOf that blade which protects him from previous rapingThere he stands, supporting himself on the invisible aggressionThat shattered blade he wields unknowingly on his defenseEven after sworn against itThat broken mirror that does not existIt's all he has left to beBefore him, the crowds walkIgnoring this old young shadowHe recognizes some facesRemembering his unexisting lifeSorrow and regret bloom within his urgeHe grabs the handle, ready to attack the peace...Does he refrain?Two tears are shed, only he remains...André Cunha
Mittwoch, 4. November 2009
Hitokiri
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1 Kommentar:
Sim, é piroso, mas hoje apeteceu-me acabar com as dúvidas.
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