Is there something left to say when your mouth is sewn shut?
What do you expect to hear when your eardrums are punctured?
And what do you expect to see when your eyes are blindfolded?
How am I supposed to move when I can't even breathe
And tell me what am I supposed to be
Since the day it started the constant fear of drowning has stayed in mind
Entering my head and crawling into the back
Eating away my soul, slowly
I'm tired of being afraid
I'm tired of being alone
And I'm tired of excepting that I have nothing
Just another part of growing up?
It's the pressure that consumes me
Which makes me something I'm not
Nothing is what I am
Nothing is what I remain
Just dragging my feet in the sand
I hope the tide comes in quick to erase my steps
So no one follows me down the path
And just like everyone else, I am forgotten
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely writing. You have a talent, I like your flow, and choice of words. Though you must remember, no one is forgotten, not entirely. Great poetry.