On the edge of our lives
There’s no line we can’t cross
There’s no bar we can’t step right over
Judases in disguise
Carrying stones they shall toss
Forcing us bow lower and lower
Struggling weakly each day
Having fought since we’re born
Given no chance to rest during pauses
We considered our aim
Was to stick what’d been torn
As if glue could repair the losses
Still we break all the rules
Picking up nasty habits
Google searching some filthy new
Then we feel like abused
Little white fluffy rabbits
And invent a new nanoglue…
Self Destruct Mode
© Copyright: Талья Штерн, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112062103104
Свидетельство о публикации №112062103104
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