I would write the novel of my life
In which memories flow like a river
Making my temples burn with fever
And stabbing my chest deep like a knife.
Oh, harsh novel of my existence,
You’re soaking wet by all the wasted tears
My helpless thoughts draw shaking fears
When some people mocked my presence.
I’m asking you to write my novel,
Because it’s overwhelming for me
To recall the short-lived apogee
And the times I’ve started all over.
by Alina Andreea Cătărău
Oh Alina, this is wonderful and sad at the same time. It made me think of my life and how it would sound if it ever got written. I love how, in a few lines, I had the oportunity to reminice my whole life and sincerely question everything. I loved it. It is wonderful and rich. Thank you for this wonderful piece. 😀
I’m glad to hear/see that you like it. It actually came to mind after a discussion with a friend and this made me think of my life and how it would sound like if it were written.
Thank you for stopping by! :*