Scissors cuts paper
my lines now scattered letters-
Left alone
to stagger
making no sense
standing on their own
A mass grave-
of a lonely alphabet
no rhyme, no reason-
Just secrets and treasures
sliced apart, left to blow in the wind-
Sharpness-
piercing ivory lined paper
each slice deep-
Words pour out
from open wounds left behind
Blood, sweat and tears-
hold evidence of me and our words
Escaping dreams
seeping out from every living
inch of me-
Paper covers rock
but not when that rock is your heart-
Reaching down
you crumbled me first
then tossed me
away-
Leaving me as
nothing more than
trash talking words
Silenced and-
searching for an
utterance of anything
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Full of images, full of pain. very heartfelt really. Why don't you try focusing on scales and rhyme scheme? I think you will surprise yourself, nothing makes a poem complete more than music in word matching and scale perfection :)