When night overtakes what’s left
And fear knocks on your door;
You press,
You don’t want to know what is coming to you,
You don’t want to put your head against the anvil of the death.
When there is nothing inside
And last wish is taken by a sunset;
You are happy to get what you get,
You are ready to let go.
When eyes are closed,
You see an apparition and feel someone’s touch.
Your reflection on the mirror dances with the dimmed light.
You don’t know
You don’t feel
You don’t want
You don’t have a will
You don’t have anyone
Nothing will make you care now...
December 20, 1996
wrt: Andrey Prudnikov
Bodkin
© Copyright: Андрей Прудников, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106092502594
Свидетельство о публикации №106092502594
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