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
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