Your eyes are empty spaces
Your limbs are broken twice
You’re lost in chill of faces
Where beauty never lies
Your fingers always shaking
They fail in reaching a phone
When try to get awaken
You feel your body blown.
Your meaningless is painful
You are a clot of pain
With nothing left to pray for
And nothing left to gain
Lost Child
© Copyright: Кант Кникер, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108010903650
Свидетельство о публикации №108010903650
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