Last time I could feel no reality round me.
Tears or screaming thoughts came just one time again.
When I shouldn’t do anything but keep on staying.
Love’s retrieving me, hate is draining me over.
Last night or last year, or whenever I do again.
I am gone wasting. It shattered my mind.
This is rare. It will never repeat itself really.
Stars won’t be there placed the same as it needs.
If I’m gonna believe. But I’m staying here empty.
& it’s everything you, it was everything they.
I just guess, exactly love cannot be common.
Though the soul filling anyone can be stillborn.
2004
Stilldead
© Copyright: Георгий Михайлович Яшин, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104033100261
Свидетельство о публикации №104033100261
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