To Alexy
People find you dangerous, weird,
Keeping you at arm's length,
But, deep inside, there is music,
Blasting with almost impossible strength.
Trudging through hundreds of shapeless voices:
High-pitched, gravelly, baritones,
You cry for help, but there is silence,
Emptiness, where you’re alone.
No greens or yellows, no red or purples,
Neither vibrant nor dull tints.
Just someone’s vibrations leading you out,
That will disappear in dense milky mist.
They are just voices; they are just shadows,
They are just noise cloaking you,
They are just here, they are just there,
They are not old, they are not new.
People find you dangerous, weird,
Keeping you at arm's length,
But, deep inside, there is music,
Blasting with almost impossible strength.
There is music
© Copyright: Мир Кристины, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125112900087
Свидетельство о публикации №125112900087
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