Published by Unknown under on 11:29
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| Hidden by larafairie |
Under these bandages
There is no pretty realities,
There is no merry laughs,
Innocent afternoons,
Nor livelings alive.
Under these petals,
My hope is waning,
My youth is drowning,
The candid decrepit,
Perfection a lie.
Under these rags,
There is a creature that weakens,
There is the sadness that witnesses,
Passions ethereal,
Me wanting to die.
Under these encrypted marks,
Truths that are hidden,
My lust forbidden,
La vie est un songe
J'habite dans mes songes
Unearthed delight.
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