The sound of the broom cleaning out the streets
Is coloring my eyes with the happiness' color
An artificial happiness but it doesn't matter at all
As long as i'm happy everything must fade to grey
By these fatal hands of my own war.
I will leave her to RISE
I'm shedding my skin open wide, to let her out
I want her to raise her voice and cut deep the blinds
To show herself, i'm stepping into the blade's core
To cut and spill some blood, to die a scarred man
All of these adorned words and all of these wonder woes
Are wishing like me to be the chosen word in a masterpiece
My pen can't write because my fingers
Are tied to hide the ink
I thought it might be right
But as always as it's wrong
One step to be closer
To the perfection's gate
The blind old man and his immortal wish
Are in one combined, from exile to exile they come in
And if you were born blind and your only wish
Is to have light to understand how happiness comes in
I will offer you my eyes instead of all lights
And if you didn't see the truth then i'm blind too
13th September 2010,8: 17 AM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the thought is beautiful...