We lack expression - pure substance-
Grow up before you have a stroke
For hearts die young - forever younger,
Than toys we tortured, toys we broke..
They lie in pieces, under blankets;
Time's building safe, forgotten space,
One day you find them and discover-
They have your own scared face.
When it's too quiet in the bedrooms-
You hear your heart beating in peace,
But it's wrong and dying reflex-
For it's something that must cease..
Toy's Mistress comes to kiss you goodnight-
Her lips taste of some ancient wine;
You smile at her in plush amazement,
And leave for world that is divine..
Broken toys
© Copyright: Лиза Ройт, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111031904047
Свидетельство о публикации №111031904047
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