Mr Timothy

I'm about to fall on the battlefield of love.
I am a Journeyman, yes, I understand that.
I have bad feelings to disclose,
shyness Solid bone skull beats.
Even a week's worth traveling a parallel,
then the memories of 
those days in the coffin is closed.
During the summer 
I remember the first time you were faced.
I was Miss June July,
do you, Mr Timothy.
So, even after the date of our road
took away. I fear most in the world
that we will not ever face,
you, and me.

Yet my mind is full of secrets,
closed with a lock is the colloquial.
Yet I still write, this mantra of life.
Sicily's olive grove, my genes will cry
in the middle of a mysterious silence.
Then, when you arrive to the ethylene
time to change shape, so the race against
glow in the moon, and the sun.
They will never be able to compete with you.