My soul is dead
And I don`t know whatever I can take
My hurt... It`s ill and empty
And it's so hard to breathing on
The dirty winds of freedom
Choose you`re mind
With complicated pattern of you`re nobel dreams
You`re savege eyes with passion on youre face
Just put it on, like Dorian inside
But don`t foget, that sometimes you can blind
Well than...
On little way that you surmount inside brains
You`re find predestinatiom of youre own
And when it realy works up very well
That make you still like
gold dust in huge home
адреса: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=368085
Рубрика: Лирика
дата надходження 02.10.2012
автор: Омут