Abandoned deers*
P.S. We have a right to dream of things that have a tiny chance to come true.
Your heart is not about a stoop
All deers were born to slaughter
But crunch of snow along a route
Still didn't sound like murder
I went on moving towards dreams
Through coldest nights being stubborn
The ice blast was abruptly ceased
And all my doubts were broken
You found my misery so well
Amidst a throng of victims
So that I'm deaf to farewell
Hoped on romantic meetings
Your heart is not about a fun
All deers have been abandoned
Cause only I turned on your sun
The one, the most sharp minded.
22.03.