Mar 26, 2016, 10:42 AM

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  Poetry » Love
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I'm looking at house with bloody windows-
the home of my mistakes.
Here I'm coming to put a one:
the worst, who ever made.

I'm looking at the lonely garden
with unwater flowers and bury dreams.
If I could draw new picture on this cover
with sun and sea, and with lovely schemes.

The steps with creaking planks
now welcome me with bad sarcasm.
In front of me: a thousand scars,
behind me: thousand...no, one broken heart...

The walls- now wet and go to ruin,
don't let me to come back.
And even portraits in the room
squealing to get out.

Because I've let someone to love me,
to share my life and feels...
I've let: and he removed me-
he only played with me...

Now I haven't home on the ground:
my family forsaked this world.
And the bloody house with wet, ruined walls
don't want to hear my words...

© F. G. R. All rights reserved.

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