Literary Yard

Search for meaning


By: Fredrik Zander


I can’t remember the name of the game;

I just remember to wear and to bear
My shame,
In someone else’s name.


To see apart from a point of view,
Try develop a photograph
Of dew,
For someone old and new.

Holy waters, stones unturned,
Ancient quarters, bones unburned.


I just came in by the door one day,
Leaving all of your guild astray
In vain;
Alas I hide in an ocean of pain.
The antidote’s like a wasted wine;
Tries its best not to intertwine
In fear,
A hologram in a world I smear.


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