SITTING ON THE COLD GROUND NOT HEARING A SOUND WANTING TO SCREAM WISHING THAT THIS WAS A DREAM THE ROOM IS FRIGHTENING HATRED BRIGHTENING SITTING IN DESPAIR YOU STOOD THERE IN YOUR HAND WAS A KNIFE YOU WERE ABOUT TO END MY LIFE BUT I STARTED TO PRAY YOU MOVED AWAY YOU STARTED SHAKING YOUR GRIP ON THE KNIFE BREAKING TRYING TO DEFEND YOU CAUSED YOUR OWN END I MAY HAVE SCARS, BUT YOU ARE BEHIND BARS
woderful write by imagery and metaphysics yet it stops beackoning.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Goodness. This sounds frightening and you have certainly written this with strong emotion and words. Well done. 10 Karin Anderson