In response to the reaper, I speak.
Begging for my last goodbyes.
For I'm not just yet ready to die.
Demanding for inner peace before my soul will let go.
Grabbing and holding onto this world.
And in this instance the pain fades.
The eyes close.
And you wake in a new place, and new life as if it was only a dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem