quinta-feira, 15 de novembro de 2012

Warm Mouth

I remember knowing myself
The birds sang with me everyday
Deadly crows in the corner
Dying to feed me with their darkness
I can feel their diseased heads
And the outside shows nothing
When I can hide some despair

The mind is my betrayal
And the bodies burned
Flesh sliced
Little hearts
Ashes wander the fields
And the swamps are filled
And the cities are empty
The women and the men
Fell forever

A very warm mouth returns
To build everything
That was destroyed by self-guilt
Near the dead waters
Where my own crows lived
And then died
Along with my colds
And my lonely breath

Ricardo Rodrigues

1 comentário:

  1. Another beautiful poem, and one I adore due to your use of Crows.

    I find Crows to be highly intelligent and majestic birds; really great piece!