Seize my body, strain my heart,
Give me poison, hit me hard,
Say the reasons to be dead,
So I'd feel alive again.
Cut my throat or cut with chords.
Want to feel without the words.
Change the system, or change me,
Chain my wisdom - I'll be free.
Shout and scream, and break my soul,
Let the shatters to be flown
By emotions, by mistakes
In proportions of the breaks.
Rip my heart, instead of it
Make the emptyness complit.
Fill the blank space with the feelings -
Love or hurt - don't mind my willings.
Do it! Do it! Break! Restore!
I can't take it anymore!
And if you ever care to find my husk,
Then know, that very, very long ago
It turned to dust, just like my soul...
A husk
© Copyright: Кристина Чертова, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126041406459
Свидетельство о публикации №126041406459
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