9 июл. 2021 г., 12:28

The Lighthouse XXI.IX.2019 

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I see a lighthouse right ahead.
The shine get stronger every step I took;
I saw my body - lying on the bed,
So fragile and so possible to broke.

 

The words are forceless to portray
The colors of the mist around;
And that is all; there's nothing more to say,
When everything just vanish with no sound.

 

Cold sanctuary, made by ripped hearts -
This is the universal truth untold;
A piles of bones and body parts
Upon the path of sadness I behold.

 

So fragile and so possible to broke,
I saw my body lying on the bed;
The shine get stronger every step I took -
The shine which comes when we are dead.
 

© Peter Wolf Все права защищены

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