Your efforts to be oblivious of me
To dress a minor wound,
To maintain with sweaty fingers,
your disillusioned pride.
Your head is down,
willing
against my stare
At times I wish
my eyes would
pierce through you
reading you
But instead they do so
to me
Oh the silence,
the work it takes!
to be blank
and give way
either way
to what is
unsaid
At every angle you glance
and do not see
Every step you take
pulls you from your destiny
I laugh at your foolishness
but you are a child
And though as much as I deny
I am one too
for if I wasn't
I wouldn't care,
and I wouldn't be writing this to you.
That was a great poem. I can relate to it in more ways than I'd like to admit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
after reading your poem, i was in awe, that was very deep, yur words created an image in which i could see, as well as relate do. great poem