My days are deaf and blind,
Morning is punch in the stomach,
My body and soul are pine,
And pain of my mind - it's luck.
Pale face and trembling fingers,
Black circles under the eyes.
The past leaves deep scars,
And memories quietly cryes.
Morning comes quickly again,
Blood flows from mouth further,
Tears flow again from blind eyes,
That's of the happiness price.
My days
© Copyright: Вацек Ян, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012507059
Свидетельство о публикации №125012507059
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