Poems from tlazovski
Looking at choices,considering pros and cons,as if it matters.
In this life, all areon their journey, but the end.Road to certain death.
Drop after a drop,a small pool accumulates.Sweet, yet metallic.
Hot and dry wind blows,no water to quench my thirst.Single red drop falls.
Grab a pick, hit hard,just hit till well underground.Stop. You reached the end.