Mum, my sweetheart, I’m tired.
Do you believe or not?
It’s like my legs are broken under
Or maybe they’re gone for short.
My head is being torn apart
By different odd thoughts.
And I can’t, I can't stop thinking.
Fears are around. More mots.
I ***** up my eyes firmly.
I instantly stop my ears.
And I’m silent again, silent again
As if there’re no dread and fears.
Mum, my sweetheart, I’m tired!
I don’t want being afraid to live!
I’m so tired mum! I’m really tired!
There’re too much atrocities.
It’s true, not a myth.
Just little bells,
Ding-****, ding-****,
Are chirping sweet sounds.
How nice is their song.
There’s not a bit truth
In that saccharine ‘re-fa-la’.
But there won't be nothing else.
We can’t live without lie.
Thank you very much for reading this poem! It's particularly personal, inside out, painful... 🙏