Music willl forget your cries, woman
whose pleasures spread, all across it's white
sheets. lonely
is her lust and publicly smiles
at hairless birds whose wings cracked
under the dark cloud of another
lullring
nails by the squares which
never,ever release us, she comits crimes
by callous corn fields, birriers her
days
as frozen thoughts, even the night fills
her, better than yesterday, and lines
of blood
decorate her knees and
ankles too.
