...Whatever it was, it had awoken.
And it caused something to stir in the deep shadows of my mind.
I hadn’t known it until now, but I had been waiting.
Since the beginning of time, I had been waiting for this moment.
The decrepit, black shell encasing the once-vigorous
and vibrant flesh of my late heart chipped, just ever so slightly.
The fragments pierce the inner walls of my psyche
and puncture my murky ego
and I am vulnerable.
I collapse atop the cold, azure glass, shattering it in slow motion.
The fragments cut into my, now trivial, skin
and fashion prophetic art onto my body.
I may finally rest with ease.
I am content.
I grin and wait. I wait for darling Death,
knowing well now how he will take me into his morbid, bony arms
and together, we will vacate the forlorn globe. The globe that,
like a child, awaits patiently for it’s parents to return from their temporal holiday.
It waits.
They wait, as I did for the sweet reaper.
They wait as the fruit and trees rot
along with their minds.
They wait as the ocean begins to swallow the land
and their homes.
They wait as the sun goes black
and they wait as their vision goes with it.
They wait until their icy bones have gone to dust.
And they continue to wait.
And wait.
Forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting writing, it will be fun to watch your skills and ability increase over the years.