wooden kiln
*Put me to sleep,
As if I am the curse to your family.
And let not my figure be seen again.
If you’d make my restful manner,
A dreamy coffin of mine,
You’d tear the devil up,
And in laughter, I’d weep.
Though I cherish the gentle caressing of my blanket,
The agony and aching;
Has grown too strong to mask.
Sing me a lullaby-
With your crystal clear voice-
And put me to sleep.*
sharp terrace