The Letdown 19-08-2010 - Poem by Fahad Witchking
The leaf is floating on the wind
Twisting and swirling, over and over
Dancing to the tune of the wind
Carried over distances, flying and flying
The fish is winding its way through the water
Against the current, swimming in the wide ocean
Making its way, leagues and leagues in the water
All alone, in the teeming sea; trudging on and on
The Loser, walks and is carried through life
Too many mistakes have worn him away
Failure. He blames not destiny nor fate
Only himself. His lot in life. A botch on everything
His choices, if they can be called that, led him here
Now, standing on the edge of darkness, he awaits
Awaits the only thing that is definite in life
He stands on the brink of bliss, lost in thought....
All his failures (choices) , twist and swirl in his reflection
He had come to terms with being a Loser, early on
Or so he thought. He considered his lapses as errors
With a chance to atone each time.
How many chances had gone by? infinite in amount
He was used to each bruise. A punishment for each
Failure. Battered bones, and torn flesh. He is Failure.
He still swam in the teeming sea, all alone; against the tide
And like cracks that weakens a dam, his will eroded
The cracks broke the dam recently. All his failures
Finally caught up with him. All the whispers of malice,
The glances of unveiled contempt. It was all HIS fault!
So now standing at the precipice of demise, he is finally
Making his first and last success in life. His resolve to
remove the botch of black ink from the canvas. And so,
On his last breath, he is jubilant. It's time for his long overdue Sleep.
Comments about The Letdown 19-08-2010 by Fahad Witchking
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye