Sitting in this room filled with cold breath and frozen bones, i look around nothing, no one. But me in the middle of this room surrounded by blood and regret. I look to my hands and i see a trembling limb covered in this blood but whom i ask whom can i say this blood belongs to? my lips are blue, my skin is pale and im in a terrible sweat. what have i done i ask myself what have i done? This room is dark pitch black to be exact, no light no warmth, all there is, is a stale air we breath. Dawn shines through a little tiny hole in the wall and the rality hits. As you lay breathless on the floor my body staggers to the wall, clentching the wall with the little strength i have i fall to the ground. My breath has been took from me and my mouth is wide open.you lay on the floor drentched in the blood i suppose is the blood that is on my hands. What have i done?
I think it's an allegory. Beautiful write. I enjoyed reading it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is it a poem? if yes it is nicely strange