Chairon... So many fades.
And all of them he hates.
So many hopes... and deads.
The only to escape are rats.
His eyes, two endless gaps,
So still each burns and gapes.
No one can stand a chance,
Enough to give a glance.
He is so ugly as he's old,
The one he wants is gold.
But let you strongly think
Although your pouch is thick.
His boat fails into parts,
His robe is teard aparts.
Nevertheless, he rows
And grazes us as cows.
A paddle is in right,
For Elder it is light.
The money lies in left,
As fee it has been kept.
Chairon... So few regrets.
Because of human hate.
So little love... and heat.
May be, he only saw the rats?
Chairon
© Copyright: Кирилл Кузнецофф, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116012405187
Свидетельство о публикации №116012405187
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