This is a translated one. this time it was hard.

The boy who lost himself

A broken window in a boys' room
creates a coldness haven't been there before.
The hitted body smells alcohol
and the face is hidden by a thin cloth.
In his hand rest a broken heart that
in an illusion vacuous pumps blood all over the floor

Sirens lit up the dark along the streets,
they wakes the people up
In the room with a broken window
lays the boy who lost himself,
without breaths and without pulse,


Poetry by Poetry-poofter
Read 509 times
Written on 2008-02-04 at 19:52

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you described about a scence where a dead boy laid down.....but i was expecting something more from this usually you must describe about the freedom of soul..or something relates to this world..dont you feel....?

nice..keep writing..