They were there,
Standing in front of me,
Reaching for me,
From stranding in the sea,
Full with gloom and riddles
They pulled me,
Saved me,
From my past,
From my fear.
There were three.
One, a teacher.
Two, a psychiatrist.
Three, an writer.
All was a doctor.
Gracias teacher,
As you taught me to write,
To love poetry,
To love words,
Which became my medicine,
A cure for my disease.
Gracias physiatrist,
As you listened to my problems,
Solved my solution,
Gave her time,
For a poor boy,
Who's facing problems.
Gracias writer,
As you gave me ideas,
Suggested new interest,
From a western lover,
Soon to a korean one,
These interests, these ideas,
Became my antibiotics,
As it prevents me from thinking the past.
Without you guys,
I wouldn't even be standing here,
To find land,
To stand on hard ground,
To be happy,
To forget my past.
Gracias a todos
Por salvarme
Nunca olvidaré tu hecho
Por los siglos de los siglos
YOU ARE READING
Bittersweet
PoetryOur life consists of a few things -Happiness, Sadness, Regrets, Love, Disappointments. To me, I call them 'Bittersweet'. I started to write poems after an incident. An incident that I would never ever forget. I hope that the poem's I wrote could al...
