The feeling of life slipping out of my hands,
the time passes by,
counting its full rounds,
and me,
still...looking.
Still.
Looking for a way to be alive again.
Searching for a glimmer.
Loosing under dimmer.
Still...
like frozen.
People are whispering, my life is slipping because they made lies about me.
Tired though,
Back on my knees.
Crawling, with the look in the eyes.
The look of disillusionment.
The look of a genius.
...still...
The one that shall never be understood.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
The feeling of life slipping out of my hands,
the time passes by,
counting its full rounds,
and me,
still...looking.
Still.
Looking for a way to be alive again.
Searching for a glimmer.
Loosing under dimmer.
Still...
like frozen.
People are whispering, my life is slipping because they made lies about me.
Tired though,
Back on my knees.
Crawling, with the look in the eyes.
The look of disillusionment.
The look of a genius.
...still...
The one that shall never be understood.
"Still" can be perceived as a time or period of time which has gone by so far, but also as a physical state of something/object not moving. An interesting lyrical pun made here, is what I like the most about this poem, besides the emotions that started this ball rolling. Thank you all for spending time reading it, even if you do not fancy it the way I do! (: Any suggestions are indeed welcome.
Another important thing is that this is the first poem I wrote with my student, and I am really proud of it.
