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