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The Witch

To her home does't lead any trail.
Everything is grown with bushes and grass.
If someone dares her secrets to unveil,
One would meet some hurdles that one couldn't pass.

Her look is wicked, wicked is her temper.
In others she isn't any goodness seeing.
She found no kindness and was not pampered
By fate or by any other human being.

Love she finds in series, never in reality.
She doesnot care even if it's near.
World is full with misery, poorness and brutality.
Danger overall - so she lives in fear.

Her only friends are her house pets.
They share her sadness, envity, distress.
Soothing is what she needs and gets
Fondling their fur in a warm caress.

There is no affection, or affiliation
Between her person and the whole society.
All the universe - a stupid creation,
reigned by insecureness, changes and anxiety.

Life brings us only trouble, it is only burden,
It is the quintessence of her thoughts and attitude
She stays on Earth, because she is uncertain,
But with no enjoyment or a sense of gratitude.

The witch has sent her soul already in hell.
Actually hell is all her state of mind.
She lives imprisoned in her ugly shell
And evil is all she seeks and finds.

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раздел: Поезия -> Лирика на чужд език
публикувана на: 2017-10-03
прочитания: 209
точки: 3 (виж далите точки)
коментари: 0 (виж коментарите)
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