So I play the waiting game
No fresh surges struggling to free themselves
The karma isn’t calling me anymore
Mother nature’s in a strop.
Weighted down with the knowledge of stupidity
The dry river of loss
It’s plain to feel the emptiness
Just staring at an all black sunset.
I could see it in her eyes
The eyes that photograph the soul’s condition
She had the look of a defeatist
The look of a spent person
Made to swallow the bitter pill of life
We’re holding hands
Staring at an all black sunset.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem