***searching for myself - between the lines, in a pause of words, in the bedroom on a sheet, in the mirror on the wall cold ... cold ... I am far away I m searching for myself - in a cool sea wave, in warm blind rain, at dawn, at dusk... it's cold... it's cold... I am so distant, I am searching for myself in a room of contemplation, where thoughts and feelings are scattered, here and there... I am searching for myself, opening my soul with a magic key... Born, inhaled - forbidden to cry. Grew up, studied - forbidden to make mistakes. Gave birth, forbade them to cry. Taught, forbade them to make mistakes. Walked the corridor of life... Old age arrived, Realized everything is possible, But too late... REGRET! © Copyright: Анна Шустерман, 2025.
Другие статьи в литературном дневнике: |