I made a promise
They said, Shut up and dance
But I said, No
I gave an oath
Me mother
We don't play
With our backs to the wall
We don't blame you
For staying away
For being religious superstitious, or parsimonious
It's not your fault,
You're just a sin in a row, like almost everyone of us
They said, Go
But I said, No
I'm promised
I'm brokenly outspoken, a token
Of something that's so pillowed in gold
And silver, it's 30 coins more, sold
And divided amongst the pall-bearers,
Are the soiled sheets,
The cushions,
And the featherettes.
2012.
The featherettes
© Copyright: Андрей Тюков, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112081607186
Свидетельство о публикации №112081607186
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