Riddle.
Retreatin' from sun beam,
that' ve pierced through my ages of skin,
retrievin' the blood from wounds
of one who anymore doesn' t breath...
Retryin' the fresh of the flesh
of the corpses that are lying,
ain' t livin no more'...
Recyclin' up to the heaven
of miracles theatre - life' s war...
Aren' t you tired?
To grab and run,
gasp with jump
to the trench
gifted with fire...
Isn' t it sickness
that won' t ever retire?
Your will to the life,
which someone will shoot
right to the temple.
Red liquid,
which one?
Costing of nothing...
You' re sparing your life,
covered with the moonlight shower.
Meanwhile house o' mine,
billions of 'em are messed in the fire.
Yeah!
We are all nothing...
Seeds eaten entirely by the God' s seeking,
as if it were only my dreamin'...
Answer is kindness.
Meanless desire.
Riddle of kindness
© Copyright: Руслан Лях, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114050708722
Свидетельство о публикации №114050708722
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