Look at me now, torn and cast into the unforgiving wind of passing
Look at me now, torn and cast into the unforgiving wind of passing,
Just as a bored child abandons a broken doll,
Seeking something else to fill their heart with new laughter and colors,
Torn and cast away, I can offer nothing more, I am a vessel emptied of the essence of giving.
Perhaps, if you would let me rest, just enough to fill my bleeding wounds
In my chest again, I could be whole once more, to offer more,
To fight more fiercely with the demons that pull me back into the shadow of silence.
No? I can't? So you won't allow it. Fine.
Then kill me, let me disappear into oblivion.
Not even that? Why? You don't throw away useless dolls? Fine.
Then... what do you want from me, soul that keeps me captive within your cold walls?
What could I give you when I am just a shadow of what I once was?
In the flow of my thoughts, questions run like turbulent rivers,
While I wait for answers that refuse to come, only echoes of silence.
I am caught in this melancholic waltz, a dance with illusions and regrets,
A poet of pain seeking meanings in words that crumble under their weight,
In a world that refuses to discard broken dolls,
For perhaps they still have a story to tell, a song to sing.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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