Sometimes alone at home,
he looks back and thinks about people and the narrow ends.
What was written upon him?
What did he leave behind?

This stanza shows that when one lives in loneliness the mind goes through many events reviewing one's life..there is a sadness to this.

A dreamer sleeps in his acidic eyes,
a poet was entangled in his trembling hands.

I loved this line. I get a picture of a person with great talent lost somewhere along a track perhaps..?

He still kept his old poems with strange care.
Life had strayed like a lost suitcase in an airport
What was his destination?Nowhere.

I guess we all think about this often..when our live strays from its path.

How many things do we have to forget to become
who we are?
How many times do we have to survive ourselves?
What is the real price paid to be respectable
but unhappy?

It is like to be someone else which the society expects hiding the true identity of ourselves is what I got...maybe my interpretations are wrong..all in all a very touching read.

Thanks for the comment on my write..

LOVE IT!

It's about some business man in economy field.. He looks so dignified, so wealthy.. so comfortable...

Yet, in his times of loneliness, he ponders a lot about the man he thought he is. It looks he is not really comfortable with himself... he made everything he could, ran after money... built his kingdom, surpassed a lot just to get what he wanted... but in the end, he still sounds so nostalgic to the real 'him'...
and I love the transformation to the airport, where, even though he's traveling much, and visiting every spot in Earth, he doesn't really where to go next.
Still, no satisfaction...
no happiness...

I LOVE IT.

This piece is a powerful one.... very descriptive, but it also leads the reader to ponder... love the metaphor's...and really an all around wonderful read.. well done~

I think this is a very powerful poem with a lot of meaning. This is how I read it.

They had reduced him to percentage points:
his uniqueness didn't come out.
He had learnt obedience and control very well
and for the rest of his life.
Some would say he was a good citizen,
a man who succeeded in breaking out the economic class system.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
To reduce someone down to a percentage point is like thinking that he is just another number in life.
Rather than him being someone, a human, a man or a father or brother. He is left to nothing.

Sometimes alone at home,
he looks back and thinks about people and the narrow ends.
What was written upon him?
What did he leave behind?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Don't we all think like this sometimes? Wondering what impact we've had on society and possibly the world?
What he left behind - what he's given to the people.

A dreamer sleeps in his acidic eyes,
a poet was entangled in his trembling hands.
He still kept his old poems with strange care.
Life had strayed like a lost suitcase in an airport
What was his destination?Nowhere.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I like how you used the whole idea that he lost his suitcase in an airport.
To me it's like when you hit a fork in the road and you don't know which way to go. I think using the airport is a more modern way of saying it. He could fly to anywhere but at the moment he is lost in life

How many things do we have to forget to become
who we are?
How many times do we have to survive ourselves?
What is the real price paid to be respectable
but unhappy?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I read this as though what we have to do to please others but in the end sometimes we are unhappy with our choices.
We are not who we should be. Only trying to make others happy rather than ourselves.

A very powerful poem indeed

x

I love this; I think especially because in comparison to other writing, this kind of thing is unwritten about, but so very familiar to those who are able to read it.

It raises the question who is worse off; a lone artist who is sure of himself, his choices, his world and his surroundings - a person who may not have much, but is grounded and content. Or a man who has worked so hard for every aspect of his being, someone who knew riches and fine things, but was lost when it came to happiness and feelings and all the aspects of the world that make us feel human.

"Sometimes alone at home,
he looks back and thinks about people and the narrow ends.
What was written upon him?
What did he leave behind?"

^ This stanza in particular really tugged at the heart strings. I think because everyone thinks about this; what will be of them later in life, or when they're no longer around? Will they be remembered? Will they be loved?

Your poem made me think; I really enjoyed it. :)

A very powerful poem indeed

This is awsome, I really agree its powerful:)