In madness
stoking the fires of Hell
my father, was, in truth,
unwell.
In watching, I too,
felt the same,
felt the hurt
of some devils game.
An overtaking, unexplained,
of mental torment,
unsustained by reality,
yet living proof
of the power of mind
and the search for truth.
And what is truth? We make our own truth in the end. I am who I say I am. I make myself who I say I am
superb lines written with gnawing realization of time running out.... helplessness and the decree of years tackled so well...almost scary loved reading it ***
A potent write-the pain shows through. One never knows until we experience it. This is profoundly disturbing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very meaningful write - good one Sally.