Alot of the time I find myself
wanting all of the things that I cannot;
Things that I shouldn't.
Times that are long past gone.
I often lose myself in thought.
Finding the importance of memories.
The times sectioned off in joy and pain.
Pages that flutter vividly like they've just happened the day before.
My heart is worn thin, once full of red thread.
None was given in vain. Though it tangles.
Given purpose wherever it lands.
Pulled almost until nothing is left.
I tied a piece to your wrist and it follows you always
Almost none existent, over time I've watched this thread
Loom itself into one of my favorite memories.
A reminder of a girl I knew, a girl that I loved.
And I'd like to think that with each tug. That she's somewhat thinking of me too
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Kewayne? Wadley? Nice poem written with good expression. You may like to read my poem... My Hall Red Thread. Yeap, that's some serious red thread there. Mmm hmmmm.