There must be something
Wrong with me
I cannot fight
I cannot see
I feel alone and drowning
In this vast cold hopeless sea
There is no warmth
Just desolation
Blown apart
I wait at the station
But the train never shows
Just the cold wind blows
The papers in the air
If I am blind
I would believe
That there is justice
True reprieves
My eyes are open
Of their own accord
Justice is a farce
There is only the sword
I am nothing anymore
I wish I was
But I cannot store
That information long
So I believe I do not
Belong
I like the rhythym to this poem, but the meaning/moral behind doesn't seem too obvious. With the powerful words used, I know it must be something great. That would be the only thing I'd work on. The flow is great, but I'd try to sharpen the meaning a little more. Blessings- Melina
