I know I’m sick, but this time
My hope was thick that you’re mine.
Under the lust I suffered,
There also must be something.
I’ve searched for it with no break.
And found myself, but not fake.
Alive and kind. In heart, not mind.
Too real to stay. I ran away
***
© Copyright: Регина Вэйн, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №225090301636
Свидетельство о публикации №225090301636
Рецензии