Wounded, I have questioned
the world for all my woes
And though my voice did resounded
and echoed all through the empty sky,
I still long for respond,
hoping that God did heard my whines.
Will the answer come?
With the peonies and the grasses as the lookout for the signs.
Or would he ignore my idiocy?
And my attempt to die.
Wounded, I have questioned myself,
If this world is so cruel how can I smile still.
There are willows by the river stream,
there are flowers and sweet chamomile.
The stars and the northern lights might somehow show,
that the answer is right within my woes.
I have questioned the world, but all along the answer lies within my mind.
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid
PoetryOnly the stars can witness how my sanity collapse, only the oceans running waves across my flesh can watch how slowly, in certainty, how I fall apart.
