Matryoshka
The silent drip of the center of life
My matryoshka is broken
the babies aren't identical
An ice chill that rips apart
what we had together
if it can.
The mold is wrong
abate the song,
the lullaby you used to cry
is not here in your soul.
The bird is flying away,
the nest is lonely.
It comes seeking its reflection
but the feathers are not the same,
his flights expire out of fear.
I am ashamed but proud
of breaking my Matryoshka
still, there is nothing to repair the wood,
just a dream out of one's breath,
in'which everything will be the same.
My matryoshka sorrowed over my eyes
she cried for warmth
away from this cold winter.
She cried for the child
she knew that she lost.
I cried for her vanity
her exquisite smile
the hands that ushered me,
the mother who
I lost in a bat.
My matryoshka is broken
and I feel nothing but pain
inside of my heart.
My matryoshka is broken
the babies aren't identical
An ice chill that rips apart
what we had together
if it can.
The mold is wrong
abate the song,
the lullaby you used to cry
is not here in your soul.
The bird is flying away,
the nest is lonely.
It comes seeking its reflection
but the feathers are not the same,
his flights expire out of fear.
I am ashamed but proud
of breaking my Matryoshka
still, there is nothing to repair the wood,
just a dream out of one's breath,
in'which everything will be the same.
My matryoshka sorrowed over my eyes
she cried for warmth
away from this cold winter.
She cried for the child
she knew that she lost.
I cried for her vanity
her exquisite smile
the hands that ushered me,
the mother who
I lost in a bat.
My matryoshka is broken
and I feel nothing but pain
inside of my heart.
