My spirit is flying above
it looks at me , thinking I'm mad.
My hair has touches of grey
and now I think of mistakes.
I loved, full of agony loved...
My passion was develish, hot
I prayed , but was it to God?
my help was unhallowed Moon.
the wrinkles are eating my flesh.
My body is not fresh or young
My purpose is only to wake
I wait for forgiveness from Sun.
My spirit is flying above
© Copyright: Екатерина Передереева, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120071508048
Свидетельство о публикации №120071508048
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