A coat cover’ my worn shoulders
While I hover above a field of filth,
A piece of stick to pick my teeth,
Trying to get rid of these plaques of death;
And still striving to find pieces of me.
And I spit and am gone.
To whatever place I dream of but not home.
These are wretched thoughts, stamps of anguish upon my peace.
I taught myself not to look west.
The opposite will be the best; with abundance of rest.
There will be no strife while the sun dangles in the east?
But no! The east does not possess the sun.
And the dark posses every being.
But I blew the amber within, and soon my soul was a bonfire.
A poem by Tonny Wandella