And things rather left forgotten.
My soul wasted for nothing.
I look at these hands,
They bring so much corruption.
Everything I touch turns and fades.
In the distance I see nothing.
A hole or a void
A place of emptiness and infinite darkness.
I am transparent.
You can’t see me?
This hole inside me is just as clear.
How much longer will I live?
Will I suffer?
I need it.
Pain is all I know.
Floating in a circle down the abyss,
Swirling and floating...
I see destruction left by my hands.
Sever them from me, set me free!
Only the abyss knows,
I am ruined.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Selfhate by Arwen Undomiel )
- Decrepit, Adam Ruudiina
- NEELA NATH Opulent Poetess Extraordinair.., Mr. Nobody Nothing
- Not with tears, hasmukh amathalal
- Laziness, dr.k.g.balakrishnan kandangath
- Dreams or Dust?, Adam Ruudiina
- Shut up for good, gajanan mishra
- The Enemy, Jose Orozco
- आथिखाल, Ronjoy Brahma
- Life is Nothing but Texture~, Mr. Nobody Nothing
- How Is Your Life In The Matrix?, Mr. Nobody Nothing
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(27 March 1926 – 25 July 1966)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)