The blossom of suicide
Is coming up bellow the ground;
It's bringing cruel form of style
For every one it's like a crown.
A magic queen and king almost
Are following each other to pick it up,
But it's to late for both of them
A poor girl just dug it up.
She prepared an extract,
It smells like someone dead,
To become a pretty Death,
It was the first of her expect.
Now she is standing on a road,
The future road of our nature.
She has no hair under dark robe
And always turns in different creature.
When she moves in our place
All the lights go out.
When she opening her face
In front of Death we all make shout.
31.05.06.
And the Death Appeared
© Copyright: Репа Сергей Викторович, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111042702046
Свидетельство о публикации №111042702046
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