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I wander upon the pond of my sufferings.
I wander freely, misguided and wonder
Where these footsteps might lead.
Strange dots collide into infinite dots,
Then divide into answers shaped as knots.
They are paths I don't want to seek.
I dived too deep into this obscurity, too deep.
The weight of my inner world
Keeps crushing my feet.
They can't run any longer
For my heart beats too weak,
I don't intend to hide under,
Just need a place to sleep.
My soul craves for the silence of katharsis
And I can only dream of a deserted oasis,
When time was only a clear drop,
A time when I was me and you were you...
I should stop writing this, I should stop.
Can't deny my letters miss writng your name,
They miss you a lot.
Innocence was written on the warmth
Of our holding hands
And smiles embraced the air
Of our own molded lands.
I've lost myself
In this "fear-hate" game.
I've come to my end
In my mind's jungle,
There's no escape train.
Nightmares became too often real
In my awaken mornings rays,
Despite rainbows of sounds and joly colours,
Demented wounds and bruises never heal.
So here I am...
Thrown on this arsenic pond
My life ends here -
Death is born.
Don't blame me,
My beloved one.
Miracles don't happen for me,
For the lost times I felt undone.
I shall find my sleep
In this lifeless area.
Between these scarlet whispers,
Between garments of memories
From the back of my cornea.
These are my last invalid words
I will be lost in my mistakes hue,
Forever lost, forever unwritten.
Neva Flores Varga Smith
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