WOUNDED

Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS

WOUNDED


I am a wound,

I am filled with pain,

I have sores inside,

mistreated on the outside and within.

Wounded beneath the surface and on the skin,

my soul managed to float above fatality,

in that soft, unreal world of kindness I dream of.

I forgot about myself,

I stopped thinking, I stopped feeling,

everything hurts so much that I no longer know anything,

I don’t know why I should run, if that tenacious pain is unavoidable.

I have gathered what I planted,

the lack of care withered everything.

I have stopped thinking about what could have been,

I have forgotten that pain is not what life is meant to be.

I forgot the pain for a moment,

I let the vibrations drift,

and I felt my skin,

free from everything.

I went out,

I slept,

I forgot the torment,

I forgot real life for a moment,

I dreamed I was a fish swimming through the sea,

a bird flying through the air,

someone good,

free.

Comments +

Comments3

  • sorenbarrett

    This poem speaks of sleep as a release from pain and wounds and so it might be, an escape from reality and its pain or a prison of nightmares with their pains. Nicely penned Carlos

  • nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

    good write, enjoyed

  • Tristan Robert Lange

    Carlos, what a moving poem. The progression from woundedness and despair toward moments of release gives the piece tremendous emotional power. I especially love how the dream sequence at the end transforms the speaker into creatures associated with freedom and movement. For a brief moment, the burden lifts, and that glimpse of liberation feels deeply earned. Beautifully done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦‍⬛



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.