Tami Zafeiropoulou

Growth feels like tension

before clarity appears.

 

Or maybe both stand

there and I

 

just don’t know

their mysterious plans.

 

The river flows

with raindrops erasing

 

every thought

every plan.

 

In a world full of goals

where is that I am heading towards.

 

In what ways was I lost

when my eyes were closed.

 

Last night the fire was burning.

I burned my finger.

 

Stepping into the

unknown of

 

every thought

every plan

 

that my subconscious is planning

with–or without me.

 

Scratching my soul to find

what is left to share,

is there anything left there?

 

But all I can find is

autumn leaves

with mud and tears.

 

I look at them and say;

Why are you so dirty and damaged?

When are you gonna be nice and clear?

 

I take bleach and try

to wash every part

that makes my soul

insane.

 

Yet sane enough

it is to say.

 

The only thing I manage 

to achieve is

to make my wounds

safe for the public space.