How many you in you?
If you suddenly introduce
and be horrified by the number of layers,
it'll make you look like a cocoon. Layers of steel
all the prints of someone else's touch,
hundreds of strangers, such precious opinions –
as about you thought, that said,
as appreciated, because you know how
see otherwise. Eyes closed.
How much and what you actually
you scared, you know?
You're not the kind of guy who'll take a loss.
Or from those who from losses vanishes?
I want to think you come from such a breed,
that never gives up and never runs out.
You're from cocoon will be able to gnaw through the road.
Your essence will be able to touch anyone.
Get out and get out, get up and walk around.,
it's so particularly not to depend,
to be /not to be!/ by whom and when,
without worrying that you won't be exalted,
that you will not be worshipped
and you're not gonna get forgotten.
You can relax and stop wobbling
as without a bridle a Grown fucking broom.
How much you have left when you dropped
everything you wore to keep your ego from freezing?
How long are you and who are you?
One question.
No clear answer.
24 февраля 2012 в 22:17
Из мертвой английской сказки о придворном Поэте и наивном Принце.Глава 418.