That call
I see me in the wall
Bang to bank
Hurry
Vehicles slowly
Walking fast
Lost
I find the place
Know the space
Said me some words
Shut up
Lips moving
Tension
Brougth ashes
A single shot and is ok
A double shot and you lost my way
Anger
Prision
Confuse
I need air
One single move and back
The sensations become death
How recicle this trash?
Share the song and make me happy again
Just dont force me nothing
We dont have the tool to do it this
Just shut up again
And sleeping in my arms
To wake on born of burn
And burn me again
So,British and American poems, usually has a different sound, are long lines with pauses and restarts. You broke the paradigm, you broke the way, you created rhymes, and movement of the poem is precisely in the inner narrative.THIS POEM WAS FUCKING!
ResponderExcluirVamos postar a traduçao, vamos?
ResponderExcluirAqui é Brasil... né... nem todo mundo tem dinheiro pra pagar curso... eu acho, enfim.