My heart and soul
burnt out,
and I remained
that old stove
full with cold ashes
in winter night.
So many precious things
intentions and clear beginnings
have been lost and wasted,
so many tender feels
died unborn
and the wonderful
outbursts
not awoken,
getting locked
hermetically and lifeless
And for me now
everything around
are looking
so strangely and oddly
getting far from me
into some
cold hopeless limitlessness.
On the verge
© Copyright: Муратбек Рысбеков, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119101101884
Свидетельство о публикации №119101101884
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