The wind breezes so cold,
that keeps my hand fold,
to not keep the ice be old.
In my body that succumbed,
until the very last breathed,
of my air in ice coated,
The ice that you planted,
in my body kept gowing,
i do nothing but to watch,
the glistering ice, shimmering.
The ice keeps increasing,
It's height, and producing thick mist,
that will halt my breathing,
I do not fell my wrist,
and so my body is dying.
STAI LEGGENDO
I was wrong
PoesiaPoems that I wrote when I was and am experiencing depress and down. I am going to finish this poems of mine tomorrow evening in our time....
