29 ноября 2011 -

I try to get rid of this thought
That my life has so griping plot.
May I'll be heard by God.
May be I can, may be I cannot.
I can only ask:"For what?"
For what am I?
For what am I here?
Say to me the truth my dear.
The sky now used to tell me lies
Looking deeply in to my eyes.
And I'm afraid.
And what's the reason to cry?
Goodbye, I fly away
And nothing now you can say.
Goodbye, I walk alone
Up to this road for a while.

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