a prisoner I am…
in a dungeon of my own
a prisoner that held the keys in his hand
a prisoner I am
in a cell on my own
crowded with people but yet I am alone
silent as the depth of the oceans
cold as the winters of the poles
dark as the shadows of the dead
if I spoke my words stopped at the tip of my lips
if I cried my tears stopped at the tip of my eyelashes
if I forget I will remember that I forgot
I water my thirst with a bucket of thirst
a prisoner I am
with dreams and no hopes
memories keep me like bars, hold me like chains
my tears shout out with tears
my voice tumbles down like a pebble that falls
I have the key but where is my door…
1 comment:
i like it .. sad poem but still lovely !
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