Television

Waking up when
The boys they ran away
On a summer's day
My God I'm not even done
All kindness is gone away
They stole my poetry, unexpectedly
From the windowsill

These words
Spilled on the paper
Build my way from home
These words
Spilled on the paper
Build my way from home

They tell me how poorly
I am ' at understanding
They tell me to wither and to watch tv
I wonder when will they decide
To close the curtains of my window life
Or will they keep me
Silently a waiting

These words
Spilled on the paper
Build a way from home

These words
Spilled on the paper
Build a way from home

These words
Spilled on the paper
Build a way from home

These words
Spilled on the paper
Build a way from home

The frost makes a flower
The dew makes a star
The dead bell
The dead bell
And somebody is done for