Sometimes I’m forced to react
On dreadful feelings and not mine;
Without thinking I decide that should die,
And I will rejoice in that moment, I confess.
Honestly, I walk through fire and ice;
Once I was calm and loved, then
I’m destructive and flawed.
What’s my identity anymore, Deathra?
Am I the son, who spent years in dungeons?
Am I the man, who knows life is not without love?
Am I the writer, who writes that none reads?
Am I the lover, who lost everything at once?
Am I the human, who does not know what to feel?
Stop! Stop! I’m in pain…no way to relief,
May come the night I dreamed about
Where I will live once and die the another;
That’s what I am always, Borderline Shobo.©sjwordsmith
Have You Forgetten My Miseries? | Poem