The wall

There is a wall
right in front of me
it's me against the world.
I can see the happy faces and the reticent pains
I can hear my beloved's laughter, and his soft fingers
slowly slipping through the notes of an old-fashion piano song.
I'm standing there,like a horse lost in an open area
I've got no home,no one in the world; just a cold wall
the wall has been with me all along;
but he never weeped with me.
He never touched my heart's soft desires.
He never caressed my death with his lips.
He stands there,cold, loner, phenomenically powerful.
What does he care?
He has no heart; he's made of stone.
But I've got a heart,deep inside my chest.
I've got my feelings buried well,under the barrage of hatred.
The hatred for those who killed my dreams.
And I can slightly see,through the wall's holes
all this happiness,this exquisite pleasures I've lost.
I can smell the scent of the beautiful flowers
spring must have come.
I slip my fingers through its holes
But i'm nothing but a ray of light;but a ghost forever lost
I can't share, I can't cry,I can't smile.

I'm still there, my friend
behind the wall;with my dreams like stars above my head.

Poetry by Eva
Read 611 times
Written on 2008-12-01 at 23:46

Tags Silence  Unhappy  Pessimistic 

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