Indefinite circumstances piling up against reality, insinuating
themselves into close proximity, dampening spirits of happiness
and joy.
Depressing a mind beyond it's existence, cutting, severing it,
from normal feelings.
Inspiring only heart-felt sorrow, manipulating and arranging it
to fit appropriately in a bereaved poet's catacombs of tomorrow.
Supplying abundant grief, emotionally draining my soul and
leaving me totally, physically bereft.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem