Emerging Soul. Poem by Hannah York
Emerging Soul.
Burning lust and parched mind,
Hands balled into fists,
Sweet craving, blistering anger,
Yet plain flat face,
Flashing eyes, the window to soulful hatred.
Soft skin almost kind,
Yet slashes to the wrists,
Rusted manacles deny the hungry steps,
Tethered to this place.
I stare you in the face,
The creature that I love and hate,
Vision blurs and speech slurs,
And jealousy will yet return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 1:23:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
