The last long lap is the hardest,
I wish I could be more humble,
But people, who are ill, are blindest,
Blindness makes people to stumble…
A pain can be dark and limping —
The soul will becoming shard,
The process of breath is damping.
So, life isn’t easy or hard.
When was I pretty and happy?
Was it my peace or ware?
No difference. My heart’s gappy…
Where is The Happiness, where?
The last long lap
© Copyright: Эльза Гумберт, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115102405098
Свидетельство о публикации №115102405098
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