When I was Young,
I thought then...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
deserted thoughts...
With each fallen tear
there is a lesson inside...
Sometimes I wonder if there is more than 3,
and if there is, I am less than thee...
When I die
I want my body burned...
Rolling on a mountain
Rolling down to the hills...
Its just everyday
..we rise awake...
Roses are red
HAITIANS are brown...
I want to be free
perhaps if I stop wanting to...
at that tender age when one still believed
openly bleeding wounds make for devotion...
Spring left me like that Summer breeze
now...
There's no point to complain
All you do is start again...