The Cry The Painful Poem by Niko Tiliopoulos

I feel like I'm dead, and maybe I am.
I'm abandoned in half, or so.

I'm dragging my feet,
wounded.

My soul is distorted,
like the Star the Shapeless.

My skin is pale,
I'm sick.

I got trapped
in the Crack the Invisible,
and my years became an avalanche
and buried me.

I had the Gods the Forgotten on my side,
so I thought.

I was fortunate,
so I believed.

What would have I done,
if the Dream the Wildhearted had come true?

But the Colours the Clownish of mine
have turned to splinters and are nailing me.

My body's poured in the sewers,
along with the Rain the Wasteful.

Where am I now?

Darkness!

In Abyss the Wise perhaps or maybe close?
That's not true.

Wet!

In the ground deep?
But I don't feel the Worms the Hangerful.

Fire!

In Hell the Eternal?
What harm have I done?

So I'm here!

Inside the Cube the Slightest.
With these drawing on its hot sides,
its glass,
its wood,
its dullness
and its pain.

Everything is here.

How did it all manage to fit in?

The Day the Virginborn
is buried into the earth.

The Moon the Wishes-shaped
is drowned into the clouds.

The Bird the Goldenfeathered
flew songless away.

The Sand-clock the Lieless
sipped thirsty all its sand.

The End...


...but I was happy in your eyes.