Is it my soul that shines too brightly?
Or my mind, that refuses to succumb to mortality?
Am I the Icarus, who may never behold the sun?
Waxen wings fail to help me soar,
For I am bound with earthly shackles.
My sculpted feathers traded for delicate flesh.
Others feel the burn of wrath,
And the glorious warmth of love.
I am trapped in a frozen void,
Unable to reach the depths where emotions sing.
Who am I?
Who was I?
Who will I be?
Questions call, and answers cannot respond.
A body and soul refusing to become one.
Memories stolen, and replaced with bitter grey.
Would I crumble if given a touch of life?
What is it, to scream to the sky,
Tears becoming one with rain?
I loved you,
Once, I would have called you my world.
Now, I cannot even envision you.
Lost,
Broken,
Shattered.
Who am I?
Who. am. I?
Why can't I remember my voice?
Why can't I remember your eyes?
Is there a point to anything if it will all be lost?
Why won't you stay, why can't I hold you in my mind?
Would my wings melt, if I tried to fly?
Perhaps falling to the earth in a final embrace,
Would free my soul from its mortal cage.
My words, deeper than any river,
Hollow in the depths of my ringed soul.
Would you think I cried, writing these words?
I hardly even blinked.
Because I am a hollow shell-
of what should have been.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem