Wild

There in the jungle
where the wild things live
were a pair of frozen blue eyes;
the breathing of a river.

There in the jungle
where beasts once cryed
were a pair of warm pale hands;
the music of the leaves.

And her soft dark skin;
the paint of the earth,
the gosths on caves,
was the hearth of nature.

Her touch was death,
and her kiss was life;
her hair holds dreams and treasures.

There, In the deepest of the jungle
where trees still talk
you can listent a spirit´s voice.

with frozen blue eyes and
warm pale hands
don´t watch her dance,
neither sing her rymes.

Because she eats the souls
and embraces with horrors
to keep her life
and the life of the jungle.