Poetic injustice


What's the matter even if your hair turns grey,
or unjust wrinkles appear on your nice face?
No matter if your eyes crease and get blur,
just let your laughter and elegance remain the same

You presented the sun to me in your soft palms,
I saw how you tried to carry it despite its heat.
Your eyes became the holy book of my deeds,
now I try to fill its pages only with your bliss.

Keep me confidently, let me be used to bright life
and keep me in your smiles as long as you can.
Let us make the hardest out of sheer spite,
Let me fly, as future is blurry and the past is dark.

My death is a nonsense hereafter for me,
Even if it reaches now, will not hurt me at all
However how dishonest and envious the god must be
To conceal life in you but create you mortal?!

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