There must be a choise made,
Or other way it will be killing
For every part of soul,
For every piece of my whole living.
I should have done that
Long ago, right when ‘t has started,
But I was wrong,
And everything won’t go the way I wanted.
What’s in that choice?
It is ‘n between my love and future
Or even more,
My life is torture:
My body calls
Like devil, Lord, I can’t escape it,
Or I don’t want,
Or think I am not the one to make it?
Choices
© Copyright: Антон Благонравов, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103050400987
Свидетельство о публикации №103050400987
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