At the edge of hope,
It becomes harder to cope.
Everything weighs heavier,
More difficult to get sober.
What is near felt distant,
Crowded places feels vacant.
The world moves in slow motion,
Gives enough time for contemplation.
Lost the reason to exist,
Lost the will to resist.
Days fades to night,
Beauty blurred from sight.
The sun grows dim and cold,
Darkness has an eternity to hold.
The moon does even hide in shadows,
No light it can borrow.
Uncertainty grows thick,
Suffocating life's wick.
What was once perfect,
Is now forced to reject.
The line that divided sanity and insanity,
Sank in waters of distressed impartiality.
Distinction remained unresolved,
No boundary could ever again evolve.
At the edge of hope,
There's no reason to mope.
At the verge of apathy,
There's only melancholy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem