My Truth

The untruths like a spiderweave entangle me, they crucify me - a robber near to Jesus. stands in the air question not asked and as if I'm a beggar... I'm begging emotions of the day, but I do not the gray pink, on the cross every morning I stand up - simple, without a theatrical posture. And I'm nailing my feet myself, I suffer my victory with pain, that I stand alone among the curves concepts - crucified, but I never worship... translation from Bulgarian: the author