Over the edge
I am who I am. I write poetry and paint really badly. Please be patient.
Let the shadows be lifted
So the eyes may see
What was once there
Has now disappeared.
It was never there
In the first place,
Your eyes let you see
The vision of something
That was long dead.
The light has become blinding,
After all that time in the dark.
I am but a bent and buckled pole
Among the straight, shiny ones.
It’s all over before it began,
The paths have grown closed.
What is my use now?
I have nothing! I am nothing!
I will never make a dent
Not will I scratch the surface.
All the roads are filled with rubble
Of spent dreams,
Collapsing within my grasp!
© 2019 Wendy Engela