I'd like to
Believe that it is
The last time my soul
Mends itself. I'm shivering
Under this weight. Fate is just
Too heavy for me to carry along.
Yet I fear stumbling and not being
Able to balance. My feet are treading
On a thorny loop where it's so difficult
To go on but even harder to stop with
The past behind. New year's coming
Upon the gloomy wintry landscape.
I'm numb but I'm still moving all
Effort to rise up to challenges
Hoping that maybe the next
Patch would have be blunt
Painless like a dull knife
I'm beginning to hate
Every part of me
That was love
Unresolved
Till now
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The way your poems are shaped catches my eye and helps draw me in. Interesting!
Hi Rob, thanks for noticing. The shape is like the breast which nurtures all poets, and from the breast, we all grow softer or tougher, depending on how far we wander away from it. ;)