Moon is a blunt knife
killed the wrong one evening yellow.
Sorry, I was just a rogue, so I
in your eyes stray.
I just clumsily spilled the
a hot shovel snow,
smiling, wrinkled hair, sore
of birds, the flowers spotted.
Sorry, still have to go.
Vetrove yellow autumn already crying.
Lakes - eyes. What yeast water
coast string travelleth.
always being nice at the beginning.
bit good. A bit sad.
always happens in this world
at the end of someone else, in the end ugly.
I still have only themselves
and wishful dream, was incomplete.
Moon was a dull knife
killed the wrong one yellow evening.
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