You have no right to remain sane.
Life is so fragile, flowing like liquid vinyl.
Each new twist in it resembles colored ink,
Moving like specters in a web of water,
Within the intricate iris of a glass eye,
Amidst the stone lilies of the ruined cemetery,
Lost somewhere between Lodz and Wielopole.
[2023]
Somnambulists
© Copyright: Уна Лигия, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №225063000155
Свидетельство о публикации №225063000155
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