He lived inside the books,
commanded by the pages,
and cheated by the crooks
of even younger ages.
He was so shy to claim
the pane inside he carried,
of being just the same
through all the years he tarried.
He wept from rage, and fought
when he was called a “sissy”,
though never was he taught
to run away for missing.
And every slightly josh
he met as roughly jeering,
and dreamed his hands to wash
in foe’s blood with the feeling:
that he was Him, The One,
the Conqueror of Mankind,
he was the One, who won
the continents of all kind.
He lived his life of words
in where, why, and when
to find the one of roads
and to become a Man.
03.07.2011
HE, THE ONE
© Copyright: Серж Северодвинский, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111070306737
Свидетельство о публикации №111070306737
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