This hot-pained feeling
Is nagging on me,
I can’t be happy
Till everyone can be.
I can’t forget for more than a week
The plays, the schemes and disgusting tricks,
The dirt of the slimes,
The dryness of wealth,
The blood-stink of money,
The lies of success.
The price for the fortune
Is soulless decay,
But still it’s an idol
For many to pray.
Societies built on the claims that are idle
And souls led astray
For minds are too pliable.
13. 08. 2013
© Copyright: Серафина Лесская, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115013000736
Свидетельство о публикации №115013000736
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