jueves, 20 de septiembre de 2012

in the northern lands,
where the river runs red.
i have sailed back and forth, 
with a gun to my head.
three and a half boys, four girls,
play without laughing.
the unfortunate steel they were made of 
is cracking.
the further i sail
the more i'm reminded,
as the more i regret 
with the less i forget.

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