User Review( votes)
written by: Izabella T. Kostka
I am only a wrapper
filled with poison to "hope".
I give in and abandon myself to this flesh
amputated in vain,
lying on the calvary table,
like a lot of rot.
Would it already be the end?
I hate myself
and yet it's me,
a wandering shadow without a tomorrow,
the marble eyelids weigh at dawn
like two tombstones on the cold grave.
tears wound me like knives
and strike the scars with salt,
I no longer have time for a grudge,
not even a moment for forgiveness.
I observe the drops in the drip
- faithful witnesses of the last moments,
a black flower in wilting
laid at sunset on the white sheet.
One day... I existed.