To scented to throw away,
A thirst for water,
Waiting for sky to cry to survive
Pedals falling and thorns growing.
No this beauty
Is too sin
To wait for its water.
Send me pleasure til’ the kiss good night.
I drink to forget,
Black out this
As I let that water drip
A flower, but where are you
I let thorns grow,
Sharp to cut.
You’re in love with my thoughts.
But in most times
I need someone to give this flower
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.