staring out of the loony bin
her eyes wander the lifeless moor
as she twists her arms, mobility none
the chains on her ankles in moonlight shone
her eyes were pale but not lifeless
her lips were dry but nor wrinkled
her spirit was down but it still pulsed
she wondered why they came.
her loved ones, once they loved her
with pretty glitters and wrapped boxes
with fancy ribbons and fake smiles
it was midnight, the lights died
her mind drifted into sleep
her dreams seeked shores with sands of gold
in her ship with no skipper, fate held the helm
images of beauty plagued the deck
in her dreams she was once more beautiful
her words had left her fingertips
the pen had slipped away
but in these nights of drug induced dreams she was a poet again
she woke up to beads of sweat
dancing around her neck
she knew today's date
she knew about the wrapped boxes
it was the birthday of a lunatic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem