Очень злободневное стихотворение на инглише, пришедшее ко мне сегодня в голодном и жарком бреду.
Melting ManMelting Man
Sun has been cruel to no end:
Where water was, now - only sand.
While usually it burns my skin,
Now i can feel the flame within.
In life to see your own soul burn,
Its rare for events to so turn.
Yet so, my soul is now in flame
And I'm not sure whom I should blame.
Of course, I'm sinner so its hell.
Why now? Why me? Noone can tell.
This world is warped and very wrong:
No mortal soul could burn so long.
But wait, now flames are done with soul,
Their other plans are no less foul.
Not fed enough with soul of mine,
They taken up to burn my mind.
This heat of hell is all around,
And no safe place is to be found.
It burns all thoughts out of my head,
No matter they're good or bad.
I'd bet next step is melt my flesh,
But I won't bow to flaming lash.
How dare they use the mighty star
To make me melt like dirty tar.
When even sun is posed as foe,
Its time to ask yourself: what for?
What is the reason for all it?
The answer's simple - it is heat.