I leave
Dragging this anchor tied to my feet;
A weight of expectations
And sudden loneliness…
I leave
Dragging this anchor tied to my feet;
This thing made of rotting iron,
Been in the sea for too long;
So long
That it has been wrinkled
And crushed
Like a raisin out of water…
Not necessarily alive,
Yet not necessarily dead…
A piece of rotting iron
That defies classification…
All I know
Is that it has weight;
The burden of love,
The shackle of memories…
Blue veins void of blood and soul;
Merely existing as hollow paths,
Waiting for something to fill it up…
It no longer cares
Whether it’s love
Or memories.
It no longer cares
Whether it’s a brotherly hug,
A kiss from my beloved,
Mom’s tears,
Or dad’s hopes…
All it desires is to be filled.
And I hope to find stuff
To fill it with…
Comments
Post a Comment