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sorry poem

un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
no sea falso
ella sabe un lanzamiento barato
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
todos esos tesoros que mienten
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
como miento cubierto adentro, defendido adentro

 



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