Poem
Philomela
To a cold stone.
I see you there
standing in pale despair
gathering the rubbles of shame
that used to be a good frame
You are struggling
to find your intention again
though it will bring
the rotten pain
where affection lives in vain
Laughing
in trembling soul
drowning
by the tears of unfulfilled goal
about more things than one
as the moon and the sun
And so it ends,
can no longer hold the hands
slashed by a rusted knife
that was the precious dust in life
It was not faded
it is indeed faded
cannot tell
for know not well
nothing mean
just killing straight and clean.
To the cold stone,
are you happy being alone?
-MIP-
November 29th, 2017
02.45 a.m.
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