Same faces every day,
No words are left in prayer.
Each moment tends to slay
Those who are not aware.
So good a life they made us live
In debt for God and devil,
And left no choice but to believe
We either die or revel.
Archangels fight no more for souls
Of damned devout creatures.
The ears are gashed by clink of bowls
Filled with the tears of preachers.
We all are pawns, each others pawns
and claim the games be fair.
The worshipped lie still reigns and spawns
the love that is nowhere.
***
© Copyright: Андрей Александрович Третьяков, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118080908812
Свидетельство о публикации №118080908812
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