Suicide note

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The snow sways softly
 over bridges and rivers black.
 I'm covered with my head
 the darkness of the city gate.
 And a cry froze in his chest.
 There are thousands, hundreds like me.
 The stagecoach is moving.
 And there is no traveler in the caravan.
 So do I every time
 whether the enemy to itself, whether the defender.
 This month was wild.
 Well, the current one is unlikely to yield.
 And there's a snowstorm in the Windows
 replaces the cold summer.
 I bury my head in the bed.
 And I compose other people's verses.
 Something to live became laziness.
 Yes, and in General, I didn't like it.
 And your eternal reproach.
 I have no right to answer you.
 My heavy sentence
 it will be submitted for execution.
 I was a sower-thief.
 Idiotic, in fact, karma.
 And it is depth.
 There are only demons up to their ankles.
 I drink the Cup to the bottom.
 I walk around like a rake.
 And perish my
 competent, but out of place.