Cry with me, my angel.
I demand your broken song.
Sing for them and let me
tell the truth forevermore.
I am no more sweet and tender,
not the man that ones I was.
I am only one more mortal -
born to die to let them know.
Every sunrise I pretend that
Sun won't hurt my naked soul.
But I know that every darkness
shall be razed with me at all.
Kalin Toshkov Staikov, 2007 ©
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