12. Стихотворение "ПРИБЛИЖЕНИЕ ВЕЧНОЙ СВОБОДЫ"

[Скрыть] Регистрационный номер 0361880 выдан для произведения:
                           
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
            
                                                             Смерть
                                                                  1                        
Вереница дней,                                                                                         
         Не видишь года.                                                                                                      И  все трудней,
         Грядёт  свобода.
                                                
                                                                          Смерть



Смерч с ног срывает                                                                                          
                    И кровь росой.                                                                               Смерть     наступает,
                    Убьёт     косой.
 
 
 
     
 
 
 
 
                                         Смерть и песочные часы
                                                        2 
Мир  в катаклизме,                                                                                                                                                                   И       боль     атак.
Наступит  в жизни                                                                                                                                                                      Кромешный мрак.                                                                                                                                                                      
                                                            Смерть нас косит
Ничто  не   вечно.                                                                                                                                                                      Ты    невесом.
И жизнь, конечно,
Шла колесом.        
 
 
 
 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                           



 
      Смерть нас косит
                                                              3 
                                          Порою дружим                                                                                                                                                                                                             Мы с Сатаной.
                                                    А мне не нужен                                                                                                                                                                                                              Тандем  такой. 
                                         Молитвы, боги,                                                                                                                                                                                                                Секретный      код.                                                                                                                                                                                                    И   на     дороге –                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Вновь чёрный кот.
4
                                          А Смерть – ужасна,                                                                                                                                                                                                                Вся в парандже.
                                                    Покоя,             ясно,                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Не   быть  душе.    
                      И     нету        хода,                                                                                                                                                                                       Бед  не  забыть.                                                                                                                                                                            Умрёшь  – свобода,                                                                                                                                                                                                Но лучше жить.