Стихи Все
I am the pile of Black and grey clothes Thrown on the floor. I am the pictures Of dead men hung On my wall. I am old photographs Taken when I was in a womb. The dead leaves You step on When you visit a tomb. I am what I'll Never be able To Define. I am the failure A generation In vain. I am the smoke Of a cigarette you sip, You sip when You weep, You weep After a loss. The loss Of a muse. I am the sound Your dreams make When they shatter. I'm the haze. The shadow On the wall. I'm the red light You see when you close your eyes Facing the sun. Et si j'avais à choisir. J'aurais choisi De ne jamais me rencontrer. Ne jamais Me faire face.
My soul aches, For words left unpronounced. My emotions are ones of a phonie, And my torments are trivialities. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, It feels as if I'm carrying the world in my insides. A world where birds have ceased their singing, And the cacophonic caws are all there is. Dead branches crack, Crack under my burdens. It's cold in there. And the raging seas Have wrecked my ships. It's freezing in there, Blue is all over the lakes. All over my soul, All over my lips. It must've been something. Something I've done. In one of my fore lives. Something unforgivable. So revolving that The aftereffects are here Carried in me. An inseparable piece of me. A definition Of the mere human I am.