delicate stuctures pronounce human nature, with the frailest tounges. and god's eyes are squinting in the sun.
i can hear a faint, distant sound of marching feet devouring pretty flowers) EVERY THING WILL BE beautiful once again smoking cigarettes in school
making fun of an ugly girl
distinguished crayolas gives our chilren a colorful new meaning to something we like to call hope
and when god is all done
i'll drive you all the way to the edge of nothing, just to pick those flowers you always liked to smell}you know, the pretty ones
i like the pretty ones
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem