I feel like a dried out beetle:
Sometimes, when I can‘t bear myself.
A bug, which was strung on the needle,
The wings were surrounded by pins.
Sometimes I can get little snails:
Who could care about weeny lives;
They crawl down the road when it rains,
And fragile shell cracks every time.
Sometimes I‘m the tiniest being,
Which carries the weight of the world.
You don‘t see, but I‘m the beginning,
The kernel of life overall.
Metamorphosis
© Copyright: Анастасия Малер, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122102907186
Свидетельство о публикации №122102907186
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