Nature doesn’t want me,
Love doesn’t want me,
What else is there for me?
When my mind just seems to bleed,
A tinted blood so abstract,
That it takes the form of words,
Forming a book of hatred,
Hatred formed by the fear inside,
Diminishing the existence of my body,
Which is being pecked at by these angry crows,
As they seem to savour every piece of me,
Leaving every bone of mine to be crushed,
Blown far away by the four winds,
Carried away so far I don’t seem to exist,
Off to somewhere long forgotten,
Where all ashes seem to go,
Under a massive burning tree,
Rotting ever so slowly in pain,
Embers keeping our passions alive,
And the massing cloud destroying our hopes,
As soon the rain will come,
And we will be forever gone,
In this land so far from being wanted,
So far from all the love I could have had,
So far.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem