Oh, honey, your soul is golden.
It's made by the gold hands of God,
He had shaped this clay, biting the tip of his tongue.
He tried so hard, but he was dissatisfied.
When burning you, he broke the pottery wheel.
When you were born, the storm hit.
I loved you, my child,
But the main hero must die.
I shouldn't think this way — but you're mine,
All mine, from the beginning to the climax.
Writing's like playing chess, controlling the game,
Playing football, being flexible,
Or swimming, not knowing what awaits you.
6 days and I made you
© Copyright: Лин Ишвар, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125102906109
Свидетельство о публикации №125102906109
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