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
Copyright © Angel Hadjipopgeorgiev | Year Posted 2017
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