The world is a wasteland,
and I its sole survivor,
alone, and abandoned, and
in ruins; breathing slow
in the cellar, so they won't hear.
When the sun shone, I would
walk about the earth, among my friends,
in the garden of easy delights,
and make my voice heard,
my tongue was loose, and not afraid
to speak.
Blow over me,
and let this fear pass,
wash me clean in your deepest pains,
your darkest howling of the wind; scrub me,
hard with a steel brush--
Make me shine in tomorrow's bright sun.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
ŞiirPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
