Unsure of what to do,
I crawl under the covers,
and wait.
I wait for the light to disappear,
from the black holes of my eyes,
so they may match my soul,
and conflicting emotions.
Now tears begin to drop,
though I didn't realize i was sad,
i always feel this way,
and my eyes feel so dry.
to be honest,
i think they are from regret;
not sadness,
from resignation;
not hope,
which only ends up crushed.
why must i feel like this,
when all i want is nothing.
nothing seems like so much to ask for,
when i am where i am,
but i will cling to this,
last vestige of hope,
'till the day i draw,
my last renegade breath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem