Спасибо
Терновая ведьма, решился выложить своё...
Thoughts perched
much like levitating rocks
above a sea
of stale cold conformity.
I’m a child of revolution.
I seek help at every door.
I’m a child of prostitution.
My country is the biggest Whore.
Sun blames the clouds
Clouds blame the wind
Wind blames the thoughts
That gave him wings.
Nait Kotikomaeroff (C)