I wander in the deep red forest -
Hearing sounds that are not supposed to be.
I fumbled, stumbled without a rest.
I am seeking what's left of me.
The murmurs, the whispers inside my head –
Is it your poisonous love seeping in?
The sweet poison that turns blood into lead –
Turns virtue into sin.
I am wandering, searching for the utmost truth -
A grit in the vast ocean of sand.
For what it's worth, my freedom and my youth –
I leave it in Mercy's hand.
I am afraid I am running on hopes.
With no certainty of another tomorrow.
My life is dangling on a thin rope –
Threatening to let me fall into sorrows.
I am afraid of Mercy, afraid of not getting through.
I am afraid of death, because I would be leaving you.
So here I am, holding on this thin, red line.
I am a wanderer, seeking for what is mine.
I am seeking for what I have lost –
Not a precious stone or invaluable things.
I am seeking for what is beyond the hope -
Glimpses of solace a tattered soul can bring.
YOU ARE READING
Wanderer
PoetryWanderer, I am a wanderer. Looking for you. [A poem that came to life one normal day.]