stranded.
captured.
alone.
seeing unpleasant images.
trying to get out.
these little skinny hands reaching the light behind the shade.
penetrating the white cotton fiber..
these skinny hands feel the air..
cold..
free..
voices..
what's out there?
i see what i feel.
my skin told me so.
no more warm, humid, and safe..
my heart is bumping out..
bringing the rest of my immaculate skin
bursting out the cradle
to caress the air of stain..
2 komentar:
kayaknya kalo aku yang baca, aku jadi concern pada tekstur kulit tangannya yang ngarang... Mungkinkah kulitnya kerut2 dan kekeringan? hahahahahaha
btw... nice poem thou... :)
you.. little.. b****** who has so many talent yang lagi mellow huaaaaaaaaaaa
ps : im not saying any dirty language rite?
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