I caught a cold
and now my throat's
in wounds, appalls
with scarry thoughts.
What if I'll be
a bum in jail.
Someone will beat
when I am ail.
Where will I take
some cloth and bed?
From my own leg?
On floors I'm led
to dreadful death.
"Shut up, don't cough!".
Under the berth
I won't take off
vestigial slime
from healthy neck
at morning time.
Weak health 's my wreck.
Night before 10/14/12
My sickness
© Copyright: Кирилл Галабурда, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113031205872
Свидетельство о публикации №113031205872
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