Dead Lock

During the deciduous winter The little ones have come They sing sweetly I hear it with great anguish The fact that you are not with me bothers me If I had another birth I would see you again Desire to make dyes The canvas is empty Thoughts always see death Like a life of innocence The colors fade Love as a spike full of colours Music as words Even the dear hand touch was a sweet treat You are a worshiper who does not know anything Desperate to see forever One word became pain A look turned into horror You have become a favorite within me Love the pictures Or the fondness for the missing picture