Julia Potapova (Age 16)

In my soul

In my soul
For a long time, perhaps,
The demon of all vagrants.
A candle puts
His will to worry

To disturb my soul
And he will force her
To flutter.
Without demand.

He will enclose
His ideas
In my shabby heart.
And subconscious.

Only will disturbs
A forgotten door
In my rest.
There are

Traces from fingers
And the sounds
Of an another melody
In my soul.
There are the words
Of sufferers, who were here,
And the pain of somebody
In my soul.

And I carry all these stones

Near my heart.