Grigory Leps. Turn around (№ 266454)

The wind knocks at my house
Loneliness creeps into every crevice.
And the simple question "for what?"
I can't find the answer.
It is not important, then what?
Maybe we are someone's target.
Turn around - on the road there.
Turn around, turn around
And go through me like a red thread.
I don't know who you are and what kind of bear the cross.
Turn around, I'm here.