I may be broken
but it’s better to let go;
there’s a strange silence in me, but
perhaps I mistake numbness for serenity.
Voices of youth and laughter muted
for time speaks louder than broken promises,
shattered dreams;
the sound of a breaking heart.
What now? What to do with ashes?
Standing here, nothing left,
I pray...
for a fresh shot of life;
something new.
Yesterday’s dreams are dust,
I need a new hope for tomorrow.
Carolyn Brunelle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fresh-shot/
