Poesia

Ecco la poesia che ho scritto per il giorno più triste dell'anno: il 5 Settembre.

My skin is withe cloth
When his skin burns,
My heart is glass
When he stays still,
But then again, I’m not that shattered
And then again, he’s not that far.
He’s like the music,
He’s like the night,
He’s someone, I know,
Who’ll never die.
He won’t be trapped,
Never alone,
He’ll never fall,
Why does he cry?
When perfect tears fall from your eyes
Why don’t you run,
Why don’t you hide?
Inside a song,
Inside a dream…
If you let go, why should I live?