- 1 Post By Stilo
Here is my new poem, please would you help me and proofread it
The empty street.
A car or a bicycle pass by now and then.
It reminds me of a state of emergency
during the war in my hometown.
What is missing are the rattle of machine gun
and a bomb exploding now and then.
Block of flats inhabited by neighbours
who seldom talk to each other.
Instead, they watch TV, surf the Net.
is an established custom in this place.
I have become one of them,
avoiding people as much as I can,
sitting in my prison flat,
the peephole of the doors my closest friend.
Am I still a human
or a body without will,
a prisoner of the past.
Why must I become a rock in order to survive?
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