In every single attempt
to reach out and touch life
to reach out and touch love
to reach out and touch reality
I pull back with a handfull
of regret
and self-loathing.
It doesn't last long.
I manage to wash my hands of it.
I manage to continue.
I manage,
but that is all.
Bad luck follows me
like a dog
that's lost it's way.
I love life.
I just don't love mine.
Nice feelings put into that. Not that it was a happy poem but i guess you didnt want a happy poem.... anyways it was put very nicely. i give you a 10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
how many times pain strikes how many times the heart rejoices always the going on into more always more a wonderful poem