Hit
Title
Date Added
Is it that I was scared
Is it that I was feared
Did I still have a heart
Or it already became a piece of art
...
You thread, you sew
The way you move your little toes
Striking, swinging on the go,
Almost as if you were using a bow
...
All this fronds, slit down its axis
The fallen trees, the bet grasses
The white birds on them
They are all I see
...