Sick wind knocks in my windows,
Sick wind cries by the rain.
And thoughts have lost in space
Returning by the cry again...
Wind angers sleepy flying cloudes,
It storms without stopping,screams.
It brings just hopeless desperation,
It kills your happiness and dreams.
And you won't find the lost oblivion,
You now should to feel a cold.
And there's no another choice.
Only reality that's sold.
All things are spoiled in progression,
Goodness and honesty аrе sold.
Do not try to return the past,
Try to improve this nasty world!
There's no even trace of hope
To build anew your spoiled world.
Try all the same! At least
You can to tell your loud word!
Sick wind
© Copyright: Алина Котлев, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112082708726
Свидетельство о публикации №112082708726
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