I can see it, I can’t draw it, I can’t even describe This image in my head, which I even can’t hide. Can’t spill it with words, I can’t spit it with spite. You can neither imagine nor figure out how I’m tired. Picture by picture in mind like disgusting fly, I fly into a passion seeing it in front of my eyes Over and over again, ain't able to write And make em expressed and clear - they all are still piled. They’re enlarging while I’m fighting fight after fight, Hoping to grasp: this to the left, that - to the right, Get the whole picture, color it and make it bright. Pen flies away to the wall, because it’s still wry. Just one more try to satisfy my pride, Failures try to anger me, despite I’ma polite. The other I say I can’t cancel the draw of my life. Banal fate, I feel me as if I’ma playwright. Кто понял о чём это я, и зачем это я - ответьте...