Poem by Elizabeth Stone
Once more my heart is in my pen
wasting the paper and telling lies.
My brain stays quiet, but thinks: „Again!
Will there be an end to all the why’s? “
There I go and here I stand,
coward-heart is ever present.
Never knowing were to land,
never knowing what is pleasant.
And so I rest like marble stone
waiting for someone to show me the way.
But always and ever I’m standing alone,
my cowardly heart is whispering: „Stay! “
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