Why time is so rapidly rushing
Why dreams are so violently crushing
Why will is never enough
Why people are always complaining
Why are they just wastely planning
Why things are always so rough
Why friends are always betraying
Why is it so furiously raining
(Outside as well as inside)
Why future is always unsteady
Why cannot we always be ready
For stepping over our pride
Why are our souls so abusing
Why aren't all the stories amuzing
Why do we find such a pleasure in death
Why is there no time for taking a breath
And for giving a chance to a different life
Instead of stumbling ourselves on a retributive knife
Why?
© Copyright: Ольга Мартынович, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114030100496
Свидетельство о публикации №114030100496
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