I sit in my room, laying in bed
stiff as a board, as if I was dead
wanting, longing, craving the attention
but laying in my bed lacking the intention
to really work on myself, improve what I can
because I tried before, but wasn't really a fan
Until I lay too long and realize life continues
and nothing changed about the way I'm viewed
I'm done being sad, even if it persists
to try and see if me and myself can coexist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem