Shadow and light
mourn the blue hour -
their strangled child
with an awful glower
on the face
and cyanotic flower
in the drooping hands.
Iron silence in the rain of sorrow.
It died... still dying... and will die.
Yesterday - today - tomorrow.
Morning or evening
is still a time of troubles.
Birds scream in pain
and the world crumbles.
The rusty name creaks
On cold blue lips
I hear the winds -
They breathe for me.
The trees are falling.
I drown in gloaming,
the blue hour has stolen
My defenseless soul.
Gloaming
© Copyright: Твоя Шизофрения, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120020900146
Свидетельство о публикации №120020900146
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