Без заголовка |
I realize that I'm ill,
I realize I am not well.
My mind is slowly turning wheel.
Depression is a living Hell.
The joy and happiness are gone.
My life is painted gray, not green.
And I'm looking at my gun
More often than at TV screen.
Рубрики: | стихи |
Комментировать | « Пред. запись — К дневнику — След. запись » | Страницы: [1] [Новые] |