The sun has set, and so has all of my regrets
As I lie here they're flooding into my mind
I can't sleep, my thoughts keep running to me,
asking how I can live if I fear living,
of taking chances that I wish I had the courage.
And I have to sleep tossing on my decisions.
Like a little child 'Why? ' and 'What if? '
I just only wish that I could answer.
Morning comes, I wish my eyes could stay shut and dream forever,
and in some sick and sorrowful ways they are shut; from within,
against all of the hurt that could seep in,
and also from the rest that comes with breathing.
Like a still cocoon that I hide inside
with each gust of doubtful wind I tremble.
Yet I am stuck between my phases of my being.
From holding back shall I burst?
How I wish that I could venture out,
thrusting boldy outward into what I fear;
but because I have not tasted?
My cast in which I fear I am not healing.
Once in awhile hope, like a mist,
seeps through the cracks of my bolted heart, but all of it,
all of me that is knocking, wishing to meet this shadow of me
that withers from not spreading out into whatever exists on the other
side, like a flower in the darkness, held frozen inside,
ever so slowly dying inside
That which exists on the other end has stopped shouting,
dropping to a desperate whisper, like it wishes to save the other,
afraid it might not break in,
not in enough time to save me from my loneliness and bleeding.
Can it be time? I wish I knew.
But I can not think; my heart is hardly beating.
I fear it is too late, and yet, my ear is pressed against the door
as my tears are falling down my cheeks, dripping to the floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.