Need
Need is poured out all around,
Tearing the mind right off its hinges.
Need breaks the circle of life,
Need seeks no understanding.
A beggar stands on the corner,
A passerby digs through the trash.
A homeless man sleeps hoarsely at the station,
As the price of a cot falls low.
Need is the queue for a store discount,
Need is in the worn-out, ragged boots.
Need is when the conscience is asleep,
Need will not squeeze out a single tear.
And a wooden suit awaits us all,
At a common Moscow cemetery.
And you are already an enemy to your homeland,
Occupying a stranger’s cot.
Need
© Copyright: Михаил Стриковский, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126071107107
Свидетельство о публикации №126071107107
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