Myself, I lack

Happiness is not the only thing I lack

I carry a heavy weight, a sack

On my shoulders? No,

On my heart a bit, back

On my soul too

Some debt left due.

No, I don’t cry

.

.

.

No tears in my droughty eyes

No smile on the dark, low

Lips. They are never in bow…

Not only fear I lack

But a hand, that once was on my back.

.

.

.

My eyes are empty

Just like a deserted island

A ship left stagnant

In a similar icy cold stagnant sea

I don’t just lack hope

I lack love. My choice? Nope.

.

.

.

Those pale stones of skin

Those endless, noiseless breath

 Those water-less, emotionless eyes

 Those wild feelings left in dread.

 They just remind me,

How much more I lack…

.

.

.

 How much they made me lack…

 I still behave, as I hadn’t had a choice…

 I lack, even more than I do lack

I lack a pulse, I lack a voice

In my world, black and white

I don’t even own myself…my breath, my sight.

.

.

.

 Want to know what I lack?

Its myself I lack…

 

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The picture made my heart stir and restless.

Out of that restlessness, this piece of poetry or prose, what ever you call it, came out. Just the very words my heart described the painting with.  All inspired by the picture, so the credit goes to it!

I just wish, I interpreted it right.

Hats off to the artist, who painted such a beautiful and heart-stirring master-piece on the canvas.

 

Enjoy!