i want to die when i'm old
while i'm alive and still bold
in an old rustic cabin
off the side of a dirt road
with a few good people around
clinking dishes making slight sound
the wind whistling silently
but no snow on the ground
death is awefully frightening
i know i've dreamt i died
sometimes even when i'm high
i comprehend what i don't want to know.
death is rather
death is very
death is so
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, really like it. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Evil Rising.