poetry

The Wish



The Wish

How was I to know
that it gets stored
where the stories go?

Emptiness in me.
Great place to hide.
Clasp a view that died.

Beggars only take.
Their hands have failed.
Can lips learn to fake?

I don't buy that's me.
Why am I here?
My soul cannot see.

The moon lights my face.
My cold sunbeams.
I'll just run in dreams.

Unloading in bed.
I love my life.
I wish I was dead.

The past makes me see.
Now I am you.
And you will be me.

Your voice left my ears.
I am fine now.
I will cry somehow.

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Vincent Van Zandvoort
Vincent Van Zandvoort

As an author, I craft short stories, poetry, and prose across various genres. My work delves into themes of disappointment, confusion, betrayal, corruption, grief, sacrifice, friendship, loyalty, and the boundless nature of love.


Poetry / Prose
Poetry / Prose

I compose poetry and prose about the disappointments of life; dishonest people we come across; crushed hopes and expectations; the corruption that lies within everyone, but also lighter stuff.

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