In my head and heart,
There's no longer an opening
To the sky,
No matter where I fly,
The blue of new, disappears,
Or slowly dies,
Before, headed towards a moving train,
Now, the voyage at the station stops,
There is no theater left in me,
No dreams, no hopes, no props,
Just, giving up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quite the morose storyline, there Missy, especially coming from you, ...That said, and being 70% of my 5,000 + works are Macabre/Dark Side verse, I like it, and enjoyed it. The work rips with gripping emotion. I do, however hope Sandra, like 99% of my work, that the above pen-gem is 100 proof tell-tale fiction.! ~FjR-'16~