A fragile cry chanted,
of far-off dreams...
I'm not little,
and I'm not pride...
Sallow lights,
foggy skies...
She aches for the beach
that never seems to come...
The sky is clear, and on the sidewalk,
old men are playing backgammon...
You see that girl in the back of the class?
The one that is crying and has cuts...
I tore open my chest
Letting my heart pour out...
Tears started merging
from a lonely place...
I wasn't born to be a raven messenger,
land upon your shoulder, tossing dirty...
Every tear-drop that you cry
travels down your lonely cheek...
My death
is something I long for...
In a place so complacent,
where a sea of grass sprawls...