Fear,
Rage,
Oblivion promised.
Take a needle and
Stitch! Stitch!
Stitch my Lips!
Silence my tongue.
I’m either your opinion
Or’ m wrong.
But the truth is:
I don’ t mind!
Make me useless,
Make me kind.
Simply hide yourself,
Self-proclaimed!
Great Healer’s gone,
Long live the King;
Red wine becomes sludge again.
In my world, I’m the strong.
The scars whisper: victory!
And you’re wrong.
Blame yourself and
Befog in holy lights
Of Sorrow.
My God,
You failed.
Blasphemer!
I cut red crater
Into my skin,
Little keyholes for voyeurs.
It isn’t your fault!
My heart was broken,
So I’m caught.
Fire was burning,
Ash already turned into life
But I couldn’t fly.
Never mind.
I disengage.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Martina Hörmann.
Published on e-Stories.org on 05.11.2013.
Meer uit deze categorie "Psychologie" (Poems in het Engels)
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