Across the Earth, beneath the sky
Where you can find the Truth
There was disgusting, ugly Lie
The Insolence of youth.
Beneath the stars, across the sun
The Conscience was born
A child of Truth, the wish undone
It was a Beauty’s thorn.
In silence and a huge collapse
Was straggling this portent
Was tossed and like a million craps
It found the gorgeous end.
Was spilled like myriad of stars
And never went at home
Where there was Truth and then, at last
Was Insolence with rum.
It near was, an acrid one
With hatred and reproach
It watched the end of wish undone
A hermit gruff, a harmful loach.
The Conscience
© Copyright: Владислава Заматова, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112093009734
Свидетельство о публикации №112093009734
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