Resparkle your life,
Recollect who you were.
Were? Yeah, it's tough
To win the inside war.
The sorrow doesn't drown
No matter what day or hour.
I'm fed up with this town.
Raindrops are sour.
So are your thoughtless words -
Tart, harsh and rough.
Though I laud you, one of those gods,
I would happily shut my mouth.
Therefrom burst vain art endeavors.
Desires dissolve in the air.
As I despise my lifetime curse,
So I praise that flourishing hair.
Vain art
© Copyright: Алиса Ретц, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124071704112
Свидетельство о публикации №124071704112
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