There's a fine line between who I am and who I think I am
It's powdered white and disappears everytime I see my reflection.
It separarates my head from my heart.
But at the end of the night they battle it out,
A fight to the death, bout after bout.
But there's no real winner, just a battered heart and a battered mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
slickly written. well done, take care.