She was an angel of the Cotton Heaven.
She was a pretty child of love.
One day she said me "yes"
or –
"never"?
or -
"nevermore"?
or –
"nevermind"?
My heart is sore and sad.
My mind is dusky thicket.
The golden dust.
The Emptiness.
Oh, cry!
Oh, cry, my mournful angel –
You lost your fate.
You lost your way.
And lost yourself.
It is all over.
Is it me?
Inside.
When the angels cry
© Copyright: Дикий Скалолаз, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103050300149
Свидетельство о публикации №103050300149
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