We live this life
almost every day
like an overplayed song
stuck in repeat.
The humdrum and monotony
feels like a knife to the throat
and merciless defeat.
One day, there will be
transformation or death
and I keep believing
in the power of a woman's eyes
and in a woman's breath
to resurrect something
already long-assumed buried and dead..
Perhaps, there is still a love
that can change the course of destiny
or rewrite the tattered pages
of a shallow and hurtful history.
4: 00AM 2-27-2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perhaps there is. I like the first stanza. Life is often like a song played in repeat. How do we break from that monotony?