Kids

I'm trying to get rid - in vain
From an idea in my brain.
It's like a splinter, like a thorn-
I see my kids not were born.

They maybe seven, maybe eight,
They are my nightmare, are my fate.
They are not silent, crying either,
I hear them only: Father, Father...

It lasts for days, it lasts for hours-
The smell of death, the smell of flowers,
And all this weight's too heavy for
I've never felt it years before.

That time I was too selfish, silly,
I didn't even think of killing.
I couldn't save you, I-your Daddy.
It's time to pay-and I am ready.

Your mum's not suffering, she's fine,
It is not hers, the fault is mine.
The fault’s too heavy, it’s too large.
Guilty! – proclaims the Heaven’s Judge.
And no exit, no choice,
Guilty! - proclaims the Heaven's Voice.
            I know you're missing Dad and Mummy.
Forgive me, kids. I'm coming, coming...