Struggle and empty inside,
My ancient ocean's dry up.
Now i'm a fossil shell.
But don't call them,
Archaeology is dead
As their subject,
Which is deep under ground.
My heart weighed more than few pounds,
Now it's ghost
In desert within me.
So here's nothing for ya'll to see.
I'll survive,
Don't pour tears upon me -
They're salty for my open wounds.
(21.2.23)
The Salt
© Copyright: Гульназ Шафигуллина, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123022109346
Свидетельство о публикации №123022109346
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