Just a soul trying to find its way through life.
Boah wie ich das nicht sehn kann. Mit deinen übertrieben tiefen Schnitten -.-
I thought that I could not be hurtI thought that I could not be hurt;I thought that I must surely beimpervious to suffering-immune to painor agony.My world was warm with April sunmy thoughts were spangled green and gold;my soul filled up with joy, yetfelt the sharp, sweet pain that only joycan hold.My spirit soared above the gullsthat, swooping breathlessly so higho'erhead, now seem to to brush their whir-ring wings against the blue roof ofthe sky.(How frail the human heart must be-a throbbing pulse, a trembling thing-a fragile, shining instrumentof crystal, which can either weep,or sing.)Then, suddenly my world turned gray,and darkness wiped aside my joy.A dull and aching void was leftwhere careless hands had reached out todestroymy silver web of happiness.The hands then stopped in wonderment,for, loving me, they wept to seethe tattered ruins of my firma-ment(How frail the human heart must be-a mirrored pool of thought. So deepand tremulous an instrumentof glass that it can either sing,or weep).Sylvia Plath