Lost, scared and all alone;
Coldness creeps into your bones.
Fighting desperately to stay afloat;
Hours after the sinking of the boat.
You can hear the others crying out,
But as time progresses you cant hear a single shout;
Soon hope begins to fade, and rescueyou begin to doubt.
After a while its hard to think;
As you slowly start to sink.
That last instinct to survive keeps you awake,
But you are no match for the chill, so you shake;
Your limbs seem not to work, and all over you ache.
When you finally go down;
You cannot help but think of your home town.
All of your loved ones that are there,
You dont get to tell them how much you care;
And you would give anything just to share.
One last moment, but it seems it wont be,
If only you could be freed, but you wont get to see;
It seems this watery grave was ment for me.
This is really good. I'm glad you up it up. I can really picture everything you're saying in my head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
‘Poetic Finery’…abstract metaphor …it is not a sinking poetry...levitatews to keep afloat… thanks for sharing… Ms. Nivedita UK 10/10