The timbre of a crying dog burning in the...
unpleasant like unknown...

I am not of here,
I am from a place...

Sky said to a tree:
How could I invite a protrusion like this...

He:
_we give them freedom...

And the clock is ticking,
and the time is leaking...

These rivers of cries are endless
because oceans are connected...

His swords never seek
death or vengeance, they only...

From their green fragrance
watermelons are bleeding...

Skies are so grey.
It is pouring inside out...

I walk on the street of this town
unadorned and unfashioned...

The dawns of towns are
empowered by the spirits...

To escape death,
there is no choice but to live...