They scream ...Beating on the wall ...Like little birds ..With horror, tearing their little hands (and maybe more) on the stone walls ...Long standing walls ..I feel sorry for them, so sorry ...Believe me ...But pity does not mean any stop signal ...They defended and bang the glass with each driven into them with a needle ...I hear these cries, even upstairs in his sitting over a cup of tea ...I hear they scrape my soul ..How to whine and scream climb their voices and hopes ..And how to become apathetic to fight ...I can not ...I help them to escape!
Small rotten spores growing on a fertile soil."Shakes head."So foolish to deny my arms full of darkness and the smell of death.Is foolish and...Drop your cards by weak hands.They may be only a small help.I do not give a snake to tempt you.He had only to show only the tip of his tongue, as I pulled it from the root, instead tasted the apple.I burned wood, the only flowering tree next to me and his ashes scattered to the winds on the living room.And lit the last edge of the canvas.Hid, paralyzed, asleep.As you wish.Do you have 5 years of calm.