It's hit me on the head,
This is it...
This is my life...
I would cry
If I weren't so depressed about it.
I'm a snail,
All soft and slimy and hiding in a shell,
Wandering about the landscape
Holding onto the stems of things.
All the feeling excited about life has slowed.
No more flashes of lightening bolts jazzing up the night-
The ones that say, 'Yeah man, this is it! '
These are almost gone.
I suppose I see my soul has died.
All souls have gone extinct, and
We're just little wads of flesh
Alien to our infinite nature-
Maybe scabs on the limbs of old truths now dead.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Today by Summer Shaw )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- On My Father's Yortsayt, Abraham Sutzkever
- The Bottom Line, Abraham Sutzkever
- Inside Me, Abraham Sutzkever
- नोँनि हाइनायाव, Bahadur Basumatary
- Paris 1988, Abraham Sutzkever
- Remembrances Of Others, Abraham Sutzkever
- Everything But God, Anne Pierson Wiese
- All Night Long, Anne Pierson Wiese
- Tell Me, Anne Pierson Wiese
- Our Mentor (Acrostic Poem), Marvin Brato Sr