The morning, people hurrying
Somewhere far away,
Not noticing, neglecting
The happiness of day.
The darkness covers all of them
With fluffy white despair
That gives you possibility
To move, but move nowhere…
The day has passed already,
Again the darkness blanket.
Where is the sense of life?
Why are we cold and empty?
The morning...
© Copyright: Виктория Алексеева 777, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121082907617
Свидетельство о публикации №121082907617
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