Giving up
By Sharon Maria Moemise
Feeling the cold, hard steel betwixt my fingers
the smell of cordite in the air lingers
I close my eyes, shutting them tight
Should I? Could I? Who wins this fight?
Why does pain feel so at home in my life
Muddling my senses, cutting like a knife,
Always on the doorstep of my sanity
Fighting to remove all traces of humanity
I try to remember the cause of my breakdown
I wrestle my thoughts from a seed already sown
Is it worth it to cut my life's memories so short
My existence, my soul, threatening to abort
I feel the cold, hard steel betwixt my fingers
The smell of cordite in the air lingers
I close my eyes against the glare of the sun
then unwind my fingers to toss away the gun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very intense and effective in conveying your extreme emotion, Maria. You are very talented. I hope that you no longer feel quite as bad as your poem describes. Are you South African! I am too.
Thank you so much for your comment, Laurie. Your comments are very encouraging.yes I'm South African, I live in the Westrand, in Randfontein. Good to know a fellow South African on this site.