You know how hard it is to win.
You're greedily finishing your glass of wine.
Do you feel our sighs?
You've often heard lies.
You're made of a rib.
You’re whispering to God of a baby crib.
If I could reach the majestic sky,
To destroy the lie.
I would make a pact with God.
The universe leaves her awed.
You shouldn't cry.
Look at the beautiful sky.
Look at the Sky
© Copyright: Иван Жарков, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125112807433
Свидетельство о публикации №125112807433
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