The ulcers are rotting on my face,
The tongue is swollen and mind is deaf.
I wanna be at any place,
But not inside me,
The true is a sharpened reef.
Animal horror and tears,
Wheezing from very depths.
Around there are only fears,
I can hear the leaving steps.
The ulcers are rotting on my face
© Copyright: Вацек Ян, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124081503040
Свидетельство о публикации №124081503040
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