Someday somehow - any care.
You waste invaluable time.
To risk a freedom - never dare.
And never turn from empty line.
"By whom I'll follow?". "Whom to believe?" -
It's all for you. You one. Alone.
Your aim are wretched: not die and live,
Hide from whole world, your fear belong.
Yeah, may be it too much for tender.
Oh, my! You contemptible so.
I try to know, I try remember,
But I not understand you more.
13:13 13 Января 2002 г. Воскресенье
Middle of the roader
© Copyright: Sinepotrix, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103041700365
Свидетельство о публикации №103041700365
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