Paint stain on my yellow shirt
And tangles in my hair
Nails unpolished
But I don't care
Because I've been demolished
Eyes that can't cry
Hands that won't stop shaking
A brain that won't try
A heart that won't stop breaking
My toes skim the waters edge
As I lie in the burning sun
Just below the shallow ledge
Summers just begun
And here I am
An old man in a wooden boat
A couple and their picnic
I feel that familiar ball in my throat
Painful and so thick
I try to ignore the laughter that surrounds me
I watch the clouds
And I wonder if anyone can see
The pain I try so hard to hide
AM I just another face in the crowd?
I pick up my guitar
And softly pluck its strings
I try to think of something
Happy to sing
I dig inside my tampered memory
And hope for a miracle
But all that comes to mind is Emery
I can almost see his clear blue eyes
And the things I feel are almost lyrical
My hands clutch the wooden instrument
And I start to sing
I can smell the burning pavement
As I watch a broken bird flap its wing
Am I a broken bird?
Am I the burning pavement?
Am I absurd?
Am I an enslavement
Of my own being?
I close my eyes
I shut them tight
And then I sigh
Things will be alright
Paint stain on my yellow shirt
And he is gone
Paint stain on my yellow shirt
And I'll move on
I lie back in the tall, green grass
And pray to God
Erase this pain one last time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i liked it very much u ad good imagery and you used a lot of details