My eyes will tell you more than lips,
Distilled imaginary wisdom,
Life is too blurred to get to grips,
We are designers of the freedom!
They are the mirror of the soul -
Abyss of emptiness and sorrow,
They’re like two pieces of black coal,
The weightless worlds to give and borrow;
My eyes proclaim the dream alive
It’s fed by obvious emotions,
It’s worth the skill to run and strive,
And think in detail and slow motion;
We see - the story is on us:
To make it beautiful or ugly,
Yet there is fate and faith, so vast
That may be we can face the struggling;
And sweetly suffer not in vain,
To see the light in dark dark tunnels,
We just embrace the future pain,
And never hope for something final;
My Eyes
© Copyright: Ирина Стародубцева 3, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123030208903
Свидетельство о публикации №123030208903
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