RIC S. BASTASA


My Hands Are Broken - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

I play your game
at nighttime

when mothers no longer
watch their
favorite sons

when fathers do not
care because we can already
fight for
what we think is right

they are old and
tired
so they always look
forward to
the last journey

this hour i sit behind a door
unloading a
baggage while you
take some more
what you can not anymore
hold

i won't play anymore
my hands are broken.


Comments about My Hands Are Broken by RIC S. BASTASA

  • Silver Star - 3,796 Points Wahab Abdul (9/23/2013 9:57:00 PM)

    hall mark style of your writing.. i love the style....aw (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 22, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, September 23, 2013


[Hata Bildir]