How hard it is for us to understand each other.
Laughter and joy are suddenly replaced by an evil blizzard.
Just yesterday, love was in your eyes,
They held a starfall of your desires.
And there were no ominous black clouds in the sky.
Tell me, where did this sadness come from?
And now autumn knocks on the windows with rain.
It will come on its own — and won't ask us.
We used to have a motto in our lives:
Live so that others get depressed.
But those times are long gone.
Now it's more and more often — a doctor's consultation.
I don't write letters like I used to anymore.
More and more often — GIFs and a smiley in texts.
I'm in no rush to live like before:
My heart's chart is trending toward a flatline.
The time has come to gather the scattered stones.
But there are no stones — they were all stolen from us.
Those who are craftier build castles out of them,
Where the foundation is lies and hypocritical morals.
But our foundation is our memory — with us forever.
I remember that sky, the salty wind, those waves,
A distant shore in the haze, and a guiding star ahead.
And I understand more clearly — Death scares the living in vain.
When she comes for us — we will no longer be Here.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 8:28 AM UTC
How hard it is for us to understand each other.
Laughter and joy are suddenly replaced by an evil blizzard.
Just yesterday, love was in your eyes,
They held a starfall of your desires.
And there were no ominous black clouds in the sky.
Tell me, where did this sadness come from?
And now autumn knocks on the windows with rain.
It will come on its own — and won't ask us.
We used to have a motto in our lives:
Live so that others get depressed.
But those times are long gone.
Now it's more and more often — a doctor's consultation.
I don't write letters like I used to anymore.
More and more often — GIFs and a smiley in texts.
I'm in no rush to live like before:
My heart's chart is trending toward a flatline.
The time has come to gather the scattered stones.
But there are no stones — they were all stolen from us.
Those who are craftier build castles out of them,
Where the foundation is lies and hypocritical morals.
But our foundation is our memory — with us forever.
I remember that sky, the salty wind, those waves,
A distant shore in the haze, and a guiding star ahead.
And I understand more clearly — Death scares the living in vain.
When she comes for us — we will no longer be Here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-RxHEOfWn8
You can find the original on my Proza.ru page: proza.ru/2026/02/13/233
