Poezja

In lost island,
water and boat, I
will never know you.

A volley of stings.
I bleed inside, without
single drop falling out.

There will be no
tiara, to put on the head
of pain.

Play on flute,
before the sunset. I
want to invite fireflies.

The numbers don't
agree. War continues for
the red sea of tears.

You won't reach
your abode alive.