I want to cry , washing with bitter tears.
I want to howl like a wounded wolf.
My heart was pulled out from my poor body.
And it is my fault ,
It is me who was the fool .
I trusted him.
But why?
He is just a person from a huge crowd.
I am not young any more ,
but am not mature nevertheless.
He passed me by,
even did not notice.
But I suffer so,
scraching with nails my maiden chest.
I want to cry, washing with bitter tears
© Copyright: Екатерина Передереева, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116121500041
Свидетельство о публикации №116121500041
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