October muse.
I am blessed and i am cursed
I understand it can be worse
Soul bleeding without any sores
All i can sing is seven notes
The bullet flies, one has to die
Life is a sort of suicide
I can`t reject, i have to give
It for infinitive believe.
They get me wrong i`m tired of swearing.
My sinner thoughts, a cross to bear.
I`m full of love but stuck in hate
Words one can differentiate.
These empty senseless dialogs
This paradise of paradox.
I hide my eyes and wear a mask.
Some questions i`m afraid to ask.
I breathe the space and drift in beams.
I play with sunlight golden strings
i`m not a child but can so far
remember when i see the stars,
These tiny spots in a dark of night
Were like a field of chamomiles
And rainbows of the northern lights
Showed me the place where i
was not allowed to fly.
OM
© Copyright: Сергей Седаков, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113112604268
Свидетельство о публикации №113112604268
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