Watching rain drops of my affliction
Consuming daily my bread of sorrow
I am fixed
I seem to be a fiction
Cutting between today
And tomorrow
Despite my funeral orchestra
I rise up
A flower
Which has been cut and stomped
When I look for a place
To hide on my map
I find none
And continue my pace
After all
All the bubbles of life
Are still blasting inside
Nowhere to hide
And I run for escape
On the way
To my fate
Watching rain drops of my affliction
© Copyright: Поэтик, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113090503623
Свидетельство о публикации №113090503623
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