Just as I start getting upset
Feeling down and lost
The only thing that brings me back to life
Is the thought of my imminent death
Being childishly silly
In the world of adults
Is my wisdom and the only way
I can be
No tears
There’s only something tearing me apart
into millions of pieces of grief
day and night
Ugly are my reflections
In mirrors and photos
I keep hiding myself
No letters, no phone calls
Being ugly means pain
© Copyright: Дмитрий Тютиков, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №211072700597
Свидетельство о публикации №211072700597
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