It's pathetic how my soul inside

So closely resides

In the past, that has been ruined;

Mistakes deluging like a fluid.


So all that's left for me,

Is to find the core of this tree,

Find the traitor, who remembered,

Find the fool, who tricked me this December...


Ah, I'm wrong, apologies I spit!

I've burned those memories, I admit,

I lost long ago. And these blooming leaves

Have been crying - sinners, fallen to their knees...


So why hadn't I picked those fragile beings?

Why do I allow those wooden banshees to rot with those feelings?

2019 II 26