The silence me as their mother tongue,
These walls, these windows..
I tired to tell you,
I want to sleep well, imagine.
Night does not glow blue,
Where is the rest is a sign?
I do not see the world here,
No, and in the enjoyment of life,
A friend of my dear,
The ribs stuck a knife.
19.12.16.
Imagine
© Copyright: Катя Александровская, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116121910295
Свидетельство о публикации №116121910295
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