I got the smallest hope, a boat she’d given.
It’s only crumpled paper with some ink.
I cannot reach the other bank, cause even
The connecting bridge is too fragile…
what’s left is drink.
Why drink!?I am afraid to look at its face.
I do not want to know the acute reason!
She’s gone, forever lost just left a faked trace
Which leads right to the human’s prison…
Few scraped hopes
© Copyright: Александр Снитко 2, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115062105559
Свидетельство о публикации №115062105559
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