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There might be a plan

I woke up,

looking at the walls,

And all of those pictures pinned on it,

staring at the lightbulbs

Wondering what's their purpose,

Questioning chairs and the table,

And why they're colored that way.

Over the floor scattered little toy cars,

Teddy bears,

And a ball,

I am wondering whom they belong to.

Do they belong to anyone,

Do they belong to me?

I am questioning what is that

Enormous white beast

With three sliding doors on,

And the reflection of a toddler in a little prison

In the middle.

Am I looking at myself?

I see

A little nose,

Brown eyes,

Almost no eyebrows,

Eyes devoid of eyelashes,

A few barely visible

Gold-white hairs on the head,

Flushed cheeks.

Those tiny, purple toes

Must feel cold,

I can see them


Something strange is happening,

As if I am starting to think, and

I am remembering.

I can clearly recall those breasts

From which I sucked warm life,

I am remembering and crying,

I want them back,

I am screaming,

I feel my lungs

Slowly being torn

Like paper,

But my voice is bouncing

Off the walls and all those pinned picures,

lightbulbs, chairs and table,

Little toy cars, teddy bears,

Enormous white beast with three sliding doors on,

And a ball.

Photo: kheinz / Pixabay

I feel as if someone is there

Behind the closed door,

I feel as if there is God


Watching me through the wall,

Not wanting to help me

Wanting to strengthen me.

This poem is courtesy of Bihać Calling.

#ElvinDervić #BihaćCalling #creativewriting #poetry

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