Something missing
and i do not feel
like writing
this hurt inside
is better kept inside
because i don't find a vent
if a chain of letters hoped for
expected- sure- isn't here
and twilight shines on the strings
between me and a cherished friend
two promises made but broken
i do not want meander in
trite sayings but
rationalise the sorrow away with
philosphering- what is a promise -
etymologically? a thing foretold, sent
forth- then, another truism hops to the spot
and bolsters up the first: future is never sure
truism where i dare to look, sad onslaughts
carve my thoughts in your head, my blindness
blindfolds your speech, menace remains
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem