terça-feira, 14 de maio de 2019

Bush song

Beware of my thorn,
handle me with care.
Remember, please, that I was born
for the touch of your hand, cold and bare.

I may not offer you safe shadow,
for I am not as sturdy as a tower...
But if you come see me at the meadow,
for your hair I might have a white flower.

If need be, let me fall and die and burn,
smoke and spread the quickest fire.
Have my warmth and sweetness in return
for the chance to rid you of evil and liar.

09/05/2019

Nenhum comentário:

Postar um comentário

Obrigada pelo feedback!

Pode levar tudo, menos o meu direito de sentir

Me deixa chorar pelo que eu perdi e pelo que eu posso perder. Me deixa não me arrepender de absolutamente tudo o que digo. Me deixa escolher...