I sit
in this hollow pit,
Their eyes I would not meet.
They'd ask me,
'What's wrong with you? '
I'd look away. Guilt?
No. nothing wrong.
They'd say to me,
'What do you want to say? '
I'd look away. Tears.
No. nothing to say.
I sit and I cry,
Why?
cause- 'I don't know what's wrong with me'
'I don't know how to say what I want to'
I find refuge in what I fear.
Thinking, Hoping, Believing,
the truth is near.
No. nothing is clear.
I cry. -Numb-
You can't expect to know how to do everything... keep writing, it's almost like learning how to speak all over again... and you will learn your heart. You've displayed the frustration well in this poem, I hope you understand yourself and what keeps you sad. All the best, Lee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I've always wanted to meet a psychopathic nymphomaniac. Have I?