cold fingers
always find light;
falling [eternal]….
saving their lives.
types of pins….
lives full of sin.
[hang] me up
with your dying…
give me to the darkness,
fly me into the sun
find [evermore]
the one running…
course lines
etched in the heart
strong vines
hating your black art
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem