agonia francais v3 |
Agonia.Net | Règles | Mission | Contact | Inscris-toi | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
![]()
agonia ![]()
■ Petite valse gitane ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-12-17 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
My eyes see the loom of time,
My heart feels the terror of crime, It’s horrendous and I can find The real meaning of words and their rhyme. Secrecy till it’s all too clear, Too shining and aiming to brill, Forgetting how bad is to fear, Fear, the feeling never to heal. Sometimes it is dark, Same as the stomach of a shark, The one where I live in along with my lark, A sweet little bird but lacking of heart. That is my home, my prison eternal, It’s all so obvious when I check my internal, I find myself ugly and dull, Swirling in the stomach of a seagull.
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
La maison de la litérature | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
La reproduction de tout text appartenant au portal sans notre permission est strictement interdite.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Politique de publication et confidetialité