Your wings are hidden in the back,
your face is broken, all in blood.
Every tear is not a fake,
you want to scream: "For what?!"
Your destiny was cruel,
you only feel the anger,
all thoughts in you are fuel,
but dont forget: you're angel!
You have to help, but not to kill,
you have to do good things.
But now you suffer, you are ill,
your soul cant rip out wings.
Angel
© Copyright: Юля Гордиенко, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111102708938
Свидетельство о публикации №111102708938
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