A Lost silent moan has traveled far from its bed.
There's no switch to turn off my head.
Late as always, I can't sleep these days.
Feel the pain in my soul as it decays.
How long is it going to take to get through this depressive phase?
Empty inside like a mannequin, motionless, silent & cold
Rotting inside, I don't feel like myself, I feel old.
It's killing me when you're away.
It kills me that I can't runaway.
Is there anything more discouraging as an empty inbox? !
Anything more discouraging than the slow hands of the clock? !
A few miraculous rays of light into the darkness
And I'm drowning in my thoughts, I'm still wide awake!
Tired - I surrender - Pull me up, for god's sake!
there is a line that tells me here you are missing someone, '...anything more discouraging than an empty inbox we lovely. After Edgar Allan Poe, I think I 've found another melancholic poetess like me.
wonderful words, nicely arranged. smooth and stimulating. will respond to your request to view your other work. brian skyers.
This is truly an expressive write, I have only read a couple of pieces because it's late and I am tired, but I have seen enough to know I want to see more. I shall take the liberty of adding you to my friends so that I may get back to your work quickly.
a wonderfully written poem. i can clearly feel the emotions expressed in it. i really like this line: 'And I'm drowning in my thoughts'
Sameera, Although I write, I rarely read, so I am not sure that my thoughts are worth anything, however, here they are. In this poem the writer has taken a blank page and turned individual letters into words and the words into thoughts - depressing thoughts- with very little hope. But I have read the piece several times, so it could be argued that the writer has succeeded.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sameera, this poem is a master piece. It emanates from unknown depths and rises fast, at break neck speed. Seeking to reach out and break free like a diver ascending from cold depths, and wanting a gasp of air, common air, air that is for all, even that is a luxury to many. You in my most limited opinion have immense talent. I am not poet a mere scribbler, but in you I see a great writer.