My sanity
Frayed at the edges
At the edge
The thin end of the wedge
I stand
And look through
My window to the world
That crowd of solitude
And see
My life
A case of the Staircase
Of Penrose fame
That miracle of an impossibility
An impossibility of an illusion
That came true.
Dreams made and unmade
Truths, half-truths and untruths
Told and half told,
And some untold,
But always recorded
To be advertised in solitude
And sold on the newsfeed.
That crowd of solitude
Liked and commented
And shared at times
But seldom noticed
The sordid end of my clichéd dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem