Tiredness
Let me rest my tired head
away from all this mess of failures
of this hopelessly misguided world,
so lost, abused and hopelessly astray,
away from all my headaches
of consistent troubles and that crown of thorns,
that keeps on hurting me forever,
in a vain and hopeless search for peace,
in this world something unattainable
except in death and dreams, sometimes, -
but even your door is now closed to me,
your lap is sealed, and I shall nevermore find peace.
Who is the victor, then?
Who has brought home the game?
Who is content? Is anyone at all at ease
and happy? No, when love has lost
by deadly insults and frustrations
and communications fail,
so that the troubled partners can no longer speak,
then we are losers all,
and there is nothing left
in this whole world but losses.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 397 times
Written on 2007-07-05 at 20:07
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