Dread was perceptible <br />unshaven with irony of the dullness <br />of the last razor blade. <br />On his chin the grown cactus <br />is breeding its small spikes <br />growing by oneself, <br />as twinges of conscience of the botcher, <br />folding elements <br />of the unsuccessful project. <br />A roof collapsed, <br />pressing down on edges of house <br />full of Utopian dreams. <br />It is a costly mistake <br />of leaving to world. <br /> <br />The head flew away already from clouds <br />on the ridge of the bony Pegasus <br />doing doggedly with wings. <br /> <br />Rest still will turn to dust <br />when a time will come...<br /><br />Maria Barbara Korynt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/transformations-4/
