Horn
Rolled up
As an iron ball
Into labyrinth hole
From the bottom of soul
To insatiable heart.
Behind the ribs
Metal is hot
Pain climbs
Up to the throat.
I shout, but
Only deaf people around.
'Stop read aloud'
They say,
Eardrum is torn.
Every time
I born
Anew
With
You
My internal horn
Июнь 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120062807524