On a sheet of glass i stand
holding this cold flesh in my hand
suspended dangerously amist clouds and sky
should i hold on or should i fly
this flesh was once the beating core of trust
but in my hand it begins to rust
the poison coursing to deflate
what once was love, turns to hate
this poison spreads from from heart to mind
the searing pain turning blind
converting logic and reasons core
forgetting what was there before
the mind sparks, shudders, splinters and shatters in every direction
but the pain of the heart too bitterly coarse to mention
the spliting seams held only by a fraying rope -
a reluctant future from a broken hope
the anger wells and ebbs and flows
stretching the soul in it's violent throws
tossing, tearing, thralling and turning
and all this for a simple yearning
the subside of flame goes only to ice
where an infant lies in snow and cries
the soul remorseful for the loss of heat
the tearing anger, now a dripping defeat
weakened by an unstoppable frozen tear
that blinding hate now turns to fear
but the fear shows that i still love
that i can stay here above
the rope now wet is becomming frail
how long before an enavitable derail?
i want to stand here for love and hope
i want to believe that broken hope
the formidable fear tells me to leap
to fall down to an endless sleep
to take on that final free-fall rush
to just accept that freeing crush
but i cannot fly, i have to stand
far up here with flesh in hand
but how long can this rope outlast
as it holds me here, on this sheet of glass
lovely poem Will lovely, i like the poetic device you used.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i love the transition you write your poems; first broken then holding on and you express hope even with hate overflowing. hmmm... very passionate to the point of anger. that's unreciprocated love. beautiful poem.