Years have taken me to the top of the mountain,
The arrow of misunderstanding pierces me again
To the cliffs of hope pushed by words
from the bottom, fast water invites me.
The waters are deep, black, cold
my soul dives, tired.
Alien breeze, the mean breeze
my love down the waves blows away.
I drink bitterness, I swallow
I give up...
while the crying of the child haunts me.
In a tin box down the road.
My chest threw under the hot water.
The soul drained down the drain.
The peace is brought to me by the linen cloth.
Copyright © Maximilian G. Wolf | Year Posted 2021
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