Untitled Poem by Joyce Chelmo
Untitled
Crumpled parchment
between my fingers
in piles of unsaved data.
Squished like cockroaches,
& every one hurts,
cut deep gashes.
Today there are no words
to describe how I feel,
sitting in the color gray.
Frozen in place,
wrapping silence
around me
like a security blanket.
If you touch me
I’ll suffer,
& scream
because feeling
hurts too much.
Wow, Joyce, excellent poem! The anguish kept building and building... profound ending. Brian
You've described that misery all too well, Joyce - this poem fairly screams. Peace to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 12:33:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Aww, but Joyce, you described it very well, or at least the best you could. You're a great lyricist.