Darkness chokes me.
The candles flame dimming.
Wax burns my finger.
I feel nothing.
Numb to the pain,
And to everything.
Useless in this world.
A blank photograph.
A colorless crayon.
A laughterless child.
So miniscule,
In a place so large.
Am I nothing?
Or do I not even deserve
A title such as nothing?
Disappearing into shadows.
Blending with the wall.
We are one.
No one notices us.
We are simply there,
Receiving no recognition
For what we do,
Or who we are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice job. My name is Benedetti too. From New England.