Dry eyes

Walking along the silent street,

not knowing what will come.

The light wind´s starting to meet

the man´s questions that overcome

the barrier of two minds.

Disinterest somewhere hides.


„Would you like me more,

if I were a Christian?“ said.

Sound of the voice tore

off the novel from my head.


What if everybody has

a wounded pride inside his chest?

Well, we all have, more or less,

some prejudice that had no rest.


„What if I had a complexion

of inadequate colour,

my face shows a cruel reflection

of poor and insane killer,

who has broken so many dreams and hopes,

but never wholly tied me with his ropes?“


„No,“ I whisper, slightly.

I´m just partly scared of myself.

Shouldn´t we, honestly,

pick mainly the best from soul´s shelf?


Though we are not accomplished,

still able to give it a try.

So I don´t want to be foolish,

I´ll turn your wet eyes into dry.





PS: God loves us all the same.

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