So much said, when nothing makes sense
Worthless excursions, so faded by penitence
Laying alone here, upon a cold stone place
Tears filling lines, of my now broken face
Shattered and broken, by a war I didn’t start
Yet these sensations, of pain, play their part
To find my arms ache, to raise myself again
So starving knowing, I cannot sow my grain
To yield so in the crops, of a new beginning
That was lost now so far back, in my falling
Wishing for the dark to hide me, from here
And for once covet me, without sense of fear
Fires I see have replaced, my once entrusted
Now irreplaceable, as is my spirit destructed
Though so unintentional, of the abandonment
So lonely in my own self, acknowledgement
Wings; torn and useless, as I fall to my earth
Unable to avoid the agony, of any such worth
I cut, though I do not bleed, as I now without
The blood to warm a heart, so very now stout
Needing of strength, to find the pieces of me
I stagger and stumble amongst, an anonymity
That was once, a selfless point of recognition
Now all I see, is the progress of my abolition
So wanting now, the sense of some affection
That I could, with this, consider my condition
But the very coldest air, doth returns my cries
Realisations cutting, into all that so never lies
I struggle, to pick my way through, this place
Distorted and vulnerable, I feel without grace
Curling up and finding my hands, to my brow
A simple wish to die; please can I sleep now?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem