I just found a poem I wrote in my journal I actually think is halfway decent:
I'm alive, I'm alive
But oh what was the price
did someone die in my stead
walk that black tunnel to the end?
I can breathe through this atmosphere
See great wonders
Taste the air
But did someone die in my stead
Am I alive because they're dead?
I've seen the storms
join overhead with poisoned stars
and broken light
Felt so unfixable
That I just longed for a knife
It's not a life that you are saving
But a void where one used to be
It's a request for pure relief
A chilly calm
Death's tranquility
FTR I don't write poetry and I've always sucked at it. I'm a prose writer, I capture moments, events, people inside my head, that exist inside my head and write their stories. I am envious of those who can write lyrics and poems but...keep trying...I want to write something for Tomek and Meral. If writing is my gift, then I will use it and give it to them.
