What will the future be like?
They hearken to the violin-es sound.
Cold ground emits smell of broken dreams.
And nothing more is being what it seems.
Black crows are crying soaring in the air
Their sorrow words while you go meeting glare.
Grey crosses... Ashes... Everything - alike.
And this is all the future will be like.
Свидетельство о публикации №117111810983