I keep rebelling, trying
to break free, but
my wings keep melting,
and i fall - not to death,
but back to this cycle of
anguish, repeating
as i wake up, whlist
my mind begins to
race: im afraid.
I don't wish to
go to war again!
Fall like the warrior,
Hector, just so my
body can be
disgraced, each time
a gaze passes through it.
A stare of disgust,
looking at the mirror.
(...)
I'm not different from
the Trojan horse:
seemingly astonishing,
but inside?
A hazard.
A hazard to my own
flesh and blood, a
creation that was made
to descruct itself
from the very start.
2022/nov/14 - S.R.
YOU ARE READING
Hol vagyok?
PoetrySosem gondolná az ember milyen rövid idő alatt mekkora változások mehetnek végbe az életében, s bár tudom nem sok ember fogja elolvasni ezeket a verseket, csak úgy időről időre feltöltök egyet.
