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| Digital Art : Chryssa Velissariou 2014 |
Is it wrong to say
that I am different?
That I admire those
who express themselves easily,
though I never could?
I am going away, my little one.
I grow wild.
I became angry all at once
with everything
I should have faced
long ago.
As long as you were near,
you sweetened me.
They say there are no illusions.
But the face of the world
changes
with the eyes that see it
and the moment that holds them.
So I peep from inside my shell,
like a wise old turtle
who lived two hundred years
instead of one hundred,
and is now endangered.
Do turtles go through menopause?
Or do they go on,
carrying life
until the end?
They do, I suppose.
I do not.
I am tired.
Most of all, because of you.
You made me feel
we are no longer needed
on this planet.
So why begin again?
Whatever I once admired
in my kind
faded to nothing in your presence.
I am too tired
to build everything
from the beginning.
So here I remain,
inside my shell,
preparing a long journey
with all my kind—
going to find our destiny elsewhere,
hoping the others
will justify
the reason for their existence.
And perhaps I, too,
will forget—
through something quiet,
something I have not yet known,
before I disappear.
Through somewhere
that does not wound.
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