After a year I will miss these days,
But that will be too late to say anything.
This is so different in my case,
I am trying to fix the torn string.
Sadness, I am sorry, it is time for you to
go away,
Don't come back, I won't wait for your
arrival.
There is nothing I want to say,
You are now my rival.
Having left what it is to be left,
I am not leaving my craft.
It's not me, who wants to cry,
It's my soul, who can't lie.
After a year
© Copyright: Ортиков Диёр, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120122007896
Свидетельство о публикации №120122007896
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