Broken be the brittle heart
Ruined by thine thoughts
Occur be scarcity of hope
A friend be merely rope
Death be the panacea
Death be the path
To let go of mine soul
A crime, was it or not?
Freedom I ask from thee
Freedom from this world
Freedom from this cage
'to whom shall I behold? '
When all is consumed
As you afore assumed
To graves, to mine tomb
The marching of the dumb
One last thing be filled
Afore my lost, mine beseech
Why are man so skilled
As to parasitic leech
As if bitten by the venomous
Immobilized like the inanimate
Breathing, alive? -yet so lifeless
To one's greed they're passionate
Have I greater tendency
Of plunging a knife on mine pulse
Have I liven a life of fallacy
Is this life, I'm living; a curse
-
My thoughts have spoken repeatedly
Of 'To whom shall I behold? '
My hand had written voluntarily
To what kind is my living world
-
it is hopeless
it is lifeless
so heartless
it's true-less
everything is a lie
everything is non-existent
everything is nothing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem