Rolling in with an unforgiving form
All speech is lost in this crowd I'm alone
I have it all, yet I am desperate
For some form of mindset to relate to the rest
Somewhere in between Saskatewan and Greece
I've lost my very own sociable overcoat fleece
It's been awhile now and its grown old
The ones all around me are bored, and I'm cold
With half a chance I'd stab it away with this pen
and pierce it good for the sake of my dignity
To exress away this cloudy cumulus
and reclaim a voice for a solid personality
But it keeps rolling in with an unforgiving form
All speech is lost, in this crowd all alone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem