Dikter / Sorgliga

Dikt: The inner feeling

The inner feeling
In which they are hidden
There’s no power of healing
The things that are forbidden.

A little, tiny, very small
Peeking through the wall
Short, not very tall
The most whimsical of us all.

Power we cannot see
The ghastly things are up for a walk
The prisoners are we
Suddenly we’re not able to talk.

A dried fiend,
A false end,
At least it can make us understand.

All the faces we won’t see
All the places in which we cannot be
For all, we can't make ourselves free.

(C) Scribbling Trix

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2019-09-28 18:45
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