It's not me but my shadow.
Once has been in me,
The shadow behind-
Now, I don't want to be,
Before it, to follow-
My every step always,
My poems of my heart,
My diary's every page!
I gave all my burdens,
To the light-made self,
She will care me with
Shield, stretching her help.
I'm shadowed, I'm free,
I forgot my former form.
Whatever, they think me,
I'll stay in my shadow's arm.
...I'll stay in my shadow's arm. -Love how you ended this. Excellect write! -Kelly.
I love it Nila, I do the same many times and the discoveries are endless from one to another what a bounty of gifts come. beautiful!
Great poem. I like the title. Writers do pour out their illnesses in their writings. This is a typical one. Keeping pouring
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think we all have a shadow side - this poem is a great expression of that. Good one Nil.