When we are young,
We lose our friends
For no significant reason.
No signs of treason
On the horizon,
Yet we delete them from our friend
List,
And they clench their fists
And feel lost and weird.
Why are we here
Is there's no trust?
Sadness covers a fresh garden.
I don't want to be a burden,
I don't want to harm you at all,
But if I'm successful now,
Why don't you call?
An elegy
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122072004184
Свидетельство о публикации №122072004184
Рецензии
