Poetry Corner

Poem I

Touching the cold floor
Makes me realize that I'm still here.
Here with the dreams that I haven't lived.
Here with the ones that I let go.
Here with my soul that asks for more.
Just here, with this cold hard floor.

I step out of my own body.
Of my own mind.
Of my own soul.
Trying to be somebody
That's not my own.
To feel the need to live.
To feel something else.
And it makes me question myself,
Have I lived?

Believe me when I say,
I am not trying to give myself away.
No, I AM NOT.
I just want...
Want...
Want...
Hold on a minute.
What DO I want?
Do you know what I want?
Can you get inside my head
And tell me what I want?
Oh, I forgot you already are inside my head.

Well, let me figure it out myself then.
I want to feel a warm floor.
I want to be the owner of my own dreams.
I want to be able to let go and be free.
I want my soul to feel driven.
Only that, to have more, but never the same.