It Often Seems...

It often seems to me that you’ve forgotten
All nights without dreams, all dreams without nights.
And then I feel that all my past is rotten,
It’s dying ’cause you think you needn’t its high flights.

It takes much strength to live: the future’s frightening,
The present’s full of pain, the past is dead. My God,
Let me die too, oh send me your white lightning –
I can’t live any more without him - my rod!

by Karina Lakeyeva

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