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I saw this shadow of myself,
Tried to catch it where it dwelled,
Cosy between ancient stones,
Where history had flown.

It danced softly with the light,
That enraptures the spirit of the night,
Between the stones they made love,
Witnessed only by the stars above.

Light and shadow bred a child,
Leading their dreams to run wild,
Giving life without pain,
Where the old stones had lain.

I looked at it with envy,
My heart filled with melancholy,
And when my hand reached the stones,
I was left there all alone.

Yet a soft breeze carried me,
To where the light became the sea,
And in these old stones,
I now see, there is hope.

My queen,
My sweet darling of the night,
My soft light touch of hope.
My queen,
We dance in my day dreams,
But at dusk I’m all alone.

This girl was worth a poem,
Yet I let my thoughts drift,
And my hand sway,
To lift,
The thoughts away.
Yet this girl is still worth a poem,
And I should have let my thoughts drift,
To behold this lovely gift.

Her brown skin shone, but not for me,
Her smile sang, but not for me,
Her hands danced, but not for me.
And I here, drank, sad and lonely,
Putting on paper her thought story,
Could this coffee then, be for me?

Tiredness,
A false promise,
A bed that betrays me as I wake,
Trails of blood and coffee in my wake.
Tiredness,
The pain in my shoulders,
A life I can’t shoulder.
Tiredness,
Limping on and on,
Till I fall,
Never to stand again.

When the sky cries,
Feeds the river,
Shattering its harmony.
When the sky smiles,
Gleams the river,
Reflecting its ecstasy.
When the sky disappears,
So does the river,
And the world feels empty.

I try to embrace this blissful night,
Like two lovers lying in bed,
But only tears I can shed,
The hundredth time I shut the light.

Gloom cuddling into my chest,
Insomnia devouring my head,
Anguish messing with my nerves,
With nowhere to hide instead.

I try to embrace this blissful night,
But bright darkness burns my eyes.

Sick,
Physically, mentally,
It doesn’t matter,
It’s just a waste of matter,
Slipping through my throat,
While my thoughts,
Are in deep slumber.

Never beg for recognition,
Your desire for admiration,
Is like self-mutilation!