Now you know I'm made of stone and only dream
of flying and shall never stop until I fall and die,
though at present it feels as if I'm falling, but I'm
stalling in accepting this Requiem of Death

Always believing tomorrow will be another day;
I'm in need of stimulating conversation, oh, God
in Heaven, the stuff I find on earth is killing my
soul and smothering my life - how can we all

be without any growth or changing of direction?
I know the magic must first be in me myself, in
my prism-thoughts and feelings; it cannot come
from outside, but the fountain has run dry

Temporarily, I surmise - still; a little death is still
dead and losing something, even only for a while,
is just too much to bear in stony silence! I feel
like screeching in high-pitched soprano -

'I'm bored, I'm suffocating in the nothingness;
help or let me die and find the lovely regions
of the notorious afterlife - in the sky! '

What terrible judgment can you or anybody
else pronounce over me so I can become
contrite and reconciled with my fate of
living such a boring life –

I KNOW the fault is mine; but telling me
off as being bad might awaken my dead
conscience and motivate my crocodilian
hand to start writing a translation

More boring than desert sand and just as
suffocating – which still enables me to be
free in between - by living life
in cyberspace!

Margaret Alice

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/feelings-in-my-prism-thoughts-and-feelings/