There is no price for my values and conceptions
In this crowded smoky room
My gist is like a shady and precipitate perfection
Which’s looking for the resolution in the gloom.
My way is reckless and desperate,
Surrounded with fens, which have to dry once in a blue moon.
My mind is the ravine without any kind of rate to separate
My suffering from pain, which seem to be unavoidable inevitable doom.
30/05/2006
The Gist
© Copyright: Анна Стессель, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110050604701
Свидетельство о публикации №110050604701
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