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He can discern sound but no reason to heed
Unable, unwilling to hear the logic of men
Having the gift of vision, yet so blind
He cannot seek the truth, apparent in his folly
Nor know the consequences self-wrought
A mind capable of thought, but left unstable
In his desire to hurt, he destroys himself
Ablating the noble expectations of men
A greyed child, a lost lonely remnant
Whose hope once was, cast away long ago
Now he tries only to diminish all he failed
Distractions, creations, attempting faults
Still the sound see his sinister, selfish soul
Who shall weigh the value of his trite being
His spiteful puerile ways, his banal days?
Poor man, tediously trifling cynic substance
A fingered voice, so silent and sorely surreal
Lying in limbo longing trapped amid jealousy
Self-minded fleeing faces loathing and laughing
An affliction malignant mute, and mundane
Thankless, thoughtless, endlessly foolish...
Ww WwWw Ww: Топ 3
| 1. | Misericordia quid |
| 2. | Mariupol In War |
| 3. | 1984 |
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