Funberry: About my pain

Well, I think again regained the ability to do something .. What do you tell? What do you want to hear? I do not know .. It seems that you see me thoroughly .. It may seem .. Perhaps you are interested to know about me that knows only the most loved ones, those who have been with me and saw everything with his own eyes. Maybe I will not speak directly, but I hope you will understand. Indeed, the main thing is not what happens on paper, but what do you fried. I hope that you will not be so painful, it seems to me, when I remember all this. Dark: Silence, silence can be called if the roar of the gaps somewhere far away. Single shots noise machines. So quiet cotton. Sniper. The most terrible thing to hear this tone sound. It always takes someone to life. Chew something very correct and pure soul loved one. How many of them have been .. Rounds, dry mouse, the best of friends. How many more wars claim? Could hundreds of fighters, dozens of friends may or may one .. a friend ..

So it is. Devchonka, interestingly, does not mean anything. And suddenly something happens that changes you beyond recognition. Why do something you become uninteresting old friends, their conversations communication. So it is. You are not just a couple of weeks and now you are moving, but nobody knows you. I get some inexplicable melancholy, pain. You no one can long look in the eyes. There inhuman pain or simply bottomless emptiness. Such that begins whirls head. Whew. A total elapsed nothing, no one noticed your otsutstviya.Drug. He is one and for life. They are few, and then you can consider yourself a truly happy man. Only then do you understand the pain of loss when you takes a person think that he was and always will be next: .. Silent sad music:. Monotonous reading prayers .. Quietness .. The dead do not cry .. Not crying, and we .. No tears .. Only anger, rage and savage dull pain .. Do not weep: Men do not cry .. Never: Only revenge .. This black .. I hate them. Lovely smile, the willingness to help, but at night .. It takes a small child in the hands of machine and kill you, your friends, more than friends - this is my family. This is my world. Even though he sees, even if there is only pain and death. I will not be able to be so careless man, what I would like to be, I will not be able to perceive the world as it is. I will not be able to look through pink glasses .. My world is there .. And here I am. The paradox? No, just zhizn.Skolko still remain there? How many deaths will go on chasing after me? How many times will I hear bullets whistling? When I no longer hear the deaf body blow on rocky ground?

When I rid of the feeling that someone is breathing to me in the back? Maybe never, and perhaps too early. The main thing is that I am thinking about not regret it. And if I would be allowed to make a difference in my life, I went again and again to the road. Could this impasse? No, there was always a way out. There is no desperate situatsiy.Snova I hear the roar .. Death. Deep-red sunset. Shooting .. "Over the pass, again to blank Valley shooting Lie with the remaining three stones, their death silly Tomorrow morning I will find a dead body among the three stones And guns kill people believe their fault And tomorrow may stay at these stones, I Here are shot here as before the war. "That is how we sang such songs I know. Let you I was not worried that I sometimes become too abruptly closed, no answer to the questions - do not ask me about anything. So I poor and alone, but nothing changed. me great pleasure to see you in a number of such moments. than any But you can not help soothe the pain of this malevolent: Excerpt phrases familiar metal band, just a quiet rustle: What is sometimes so badly Reminds me of the war, about friends: I can not cry, I do not like to drink, but sometimes I want all of this so nauchitsya.Posmotri in my eyes. not afraid. you will not be so painful, how can you seems to me uncomfortable on the land ? Maybe, just try glance. Popytaeshsya something to read and can not. And, perhaps, I see the reflection of ourselves?