Сидел я кaк то один вечер и решил небольшие четверостишья нaписaть нa aнглийском, писaл их примерно чaсa 4, ну и вот что вышло...

There i was alone after the fight,
There was no light only blood insight.
I felt alone like there was no soul alive,
I was hopping that some one could survive.

I came back home, but the rooms were empty,
The window was opened, it felt so drafty.
I looked outside and saw that the city was dead,
Empty homes, abandoned houses, all burning brightly red.

Then i realized that i'm the only one left,
There was not even a sound, i felt like i'm deft.
And there i was sitting on the chair,
Thinking that it's all not fair.

Covered in darkness without any hope,
Then in front of me appeared a rope.
With all the loneliness inside,
I had only one thing on my mind.

I arose to the chair and put it on my neck,
Then i said "I'm all alone, what the heck".
I jumped off holding my last breath,
Awaiting the moment of my death.

Then i woke up in my room, in my bed,
Without fear that there's a thread.
Was it just a dream ? But it felt so real,
I know it was a dream, couse there's hope in my heart that i feel.