Tedious

The shortfall between the words of the poem 
half of melancholy. 
March waiting for a woman, 
his mind is another human being. 
He ram, a man who in the spring 
always conquer a woman's mind. 
It is once again my nights sleepless, 
I listen to just your blood noise. 

I feel like my veins in the midst of the pain, 
how its axis rotates still a country. 
Indifference is this longing, 
it is just their the crystal soil 
Take a deep increase. It covers 
bushel wander. 
My brain desolate words again wait 
morning, tomorrow. I applaud aries man 
year after year to their spring. 
In my mind spins back an angry truck driver 
Yet, it is my phone 
I guess I never stick to, I 
I miss, I miss, and be silent.