This is he? This is she?
The reflection of tears in Vltava,
lights on the Karel’s bridge
Tremor of my hands.
They can not stop it.
I hit - even if I forbid myself!
I hit - and so I asked: No!
I hit - and after I was crying!
I hit - now it is just the feeling of being guilty
Nigh and cry,
thinking about the past.
Indifference? No…
Indifference doesn’t exist.
This is just a smaller interest.
Only a sadness which it creates is real,
like me, like he and like she
and like that boy.
I hit…
He didn’t hit me back,
he should do it.
I hurt him so much.
I hit- this image every night.
Alcohol, which is relaxing the chains of fear. I didn’t wanted to.
Words of a friend and I would stop.
I didn’t listen to.
I feel sorry. Sorry
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