We carve the path with worn-out shoes
Every stumble
Every bruise
The echoes whisper we chose this tune
Under the sun or beneath the moon
With our own hands
We build the walls
With our own hands
We watch them fall
No one else to point or blame
We light the match
We spark the flame
Moments come
Like forks in a stream
A fragile thread or a concrete dream
Every turn
A door we’ve closed
Every scar
A seed we’ve sown
The mirror stares
It doesn’t lie
Your shadow knows the reasons why
With our own hands
We shape the clay
With our own hands
We pave the way
No borrowed crowns
No borrowed throne
We make the mess
We stand alone
It’s heavy
This weight
But it’s ours to keep
A mountain to climb
A valley deep
The road is rough
The choices sting
But we’re the makers of everything
The weight we hold
© Copyright: Вячеслав Мозжухин, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125111507224
Свидетельство о публикации №125111507224
Рецензии