This One Or Some Other

No, they won’t

They wouldn’t understand me

Until I die

Until they will find those poetry

Will they?

All privy pages

Pages of my mind

Words of my real world

Will they find me ever?

In this cloudy sky

In wretched struggles

With dry bushes

Would it be evitable for them

Like always

Or they will praise me

When I will be no more.

Will they march?

They will march

For me

Or in a collision.

Will they come?

They will come to me

At my departure

Out of piety

Or of anger

Will they fire me?

Or they will sculpt my corpse?

They will fire me

For their hatred

Or for a ritual.

Will they mourn at carcass?

They will mourn

Out of sorrow

Or to conceal All

Will there be an elegy

After me?

There will be one,

This one

Or some other.