I love the sound around me,
but i am bound by the visuals that surround me.
And as i get stuck in the porous pipes around me,
time exchanges the background behind me.
Time keeps moving and as a debt to it,
you keep training no one but yourself.
To be the best soldier of the paining
war around you, you would like to blow the rage around you
you need a cannon to, but you have a blade with you
what do you….?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem