3.10.2017 г., 14:59 ч.

The Witch 

  Поезия » Философска
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To her home does't lead any trail.
Everything is grown with bushes and grass.
If someone dares her secrets to unveil,
There are many hurdles that one couldn't pass.
Her look is wicked, wicked is her temper.
In others she isn't any goodness seeing.
She found no kindness and was not pampered
By fate or by any other human being.
Love she finds in series, never in reality.
She doesnot care even if it's near.
World is full with misery, poorness and brutality.
Danger overall - so she lives in fear. ...

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