By Wenne Madyt Dengs
My milk tears
You stream in black streets
My milk tears
In the month of mess
My milk tears
You shift me like chess
My milk tears
I’m to be colorless
My milk tears
As I’m turning odorless
My milk tears
You form a cluster of fate
My milk tears
If you participate
My milk tears
I’ll not appreciate
My milk tears
I’ll not comprise precipitate
My Milk tears
When a male eats in May
My milk tears
A mayor eases himself in mystery
My milk tears
You’re tearing me into a grave
My milk tears
I once tasted a future
My milk tears
Before your departure
My milk tears
Though you’ve given me a puncture
My milk tears
You’ll not be my furniture
©Wenne Madyt Dengs