The words of poetry are wasted
unheard trailing away into the void.
Like a preacher without an audience
the meaning of the words dies
with the last echo of sound.
Nobody will remember
the meaning of the words
and the story behind them.
The quill scribed the poet’s blood
into paper white as snow.
But who will know when it’s all over -
who will recall their existence -
that these words went out to you.
Readers here and everywhere
you don’t need to remember my story -
Please just don’t make the same mistakes
and learn your lesson from the past.
My wish to be understood
is not about to be fulfilled.
Too few know of the existence of the words I wrote
less will understand their meaning.
So the lines I write for you
will wither away
along with the people to remember.
And if noone will remenber
then the words are wasted after all.

Für Sonja – Ich hoffe es geht dir gut!

Whenever you reasoned
whether what you do is right or wrong -
You just missed the crux.
Whenever you were weak
and you lost your self-esteem -
The reason was you all along.
I have never seen
a life so filled of misery -
Your life i wouldn’t want to live.
Whatever you did
the sadness came along with you -
Your lack of passion made you weak.
The misery you thought you had
was only in your head -
Never ever there was life in what you did.
But the energy you never had
was in you all along -
You just never dared do use your power.
The few moments that you shone
the entity I loved in you -
Your soul leaked through your wall.
Your life force let you down
but know, now and forever -
You are strong, just afraid of yourself.
Let you soul and spirit guide you
feel the energy that surges in you -
When your actions are one with you heart’s desire.