Crippled August feeds
On sun-bleached leaves.
Down his spine glides snake mist
But he had ceased to resist.
Blind evening searched his pockets
And pulled the broken coin -- Crescent --
But this is not sufficient...
He is still an outcast. Unpleasant
Loneliness can't be prevented --
And his melancholy painted
poisonous hues dusk --
Crippled August is hiding
behind the sorrowful mask.
Crippled August
© Copyright: Твоя Шизофрения, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114080306874
Свидетельство о публикации №114080306874
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