Ashes

Dmitry Borodaenko
Sep 4, 2018 · 1 min read

Undead, or just not quite alive,
He is rolling though life like a tank.
His lips are locked into a smile,
And his brain’s liquified.
A cadaver that’s never been born,
A suit and a tie.
His malevolent will, single minded,
Sends a chill down your spine.
A soul that’s been dead for a while.
A face with blank bulletproof eyes.
No desires.
But he takes everything anyway.
And around him,
Everything dies.

Прах

Смерти вопреки
Он идет вперед
Страшен мертвый оскал
Его жидких мозгов
Мертворожденный труп
В костюме и очках
Он совсем не глуп
Но внушает страх
Это смерть души
В его лице
За пустых глаз броней
Ничего нет
Он ползет по жизни
Словно танк
Ничего не хочет
Но берет все что может
Он внушает страх
Прах

Dmitry Borodaenko

Written by

I have opinions, and I am not afraid to use them.

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