i took my pen and sheet, wanting to write a poem
it was a bright sunny day, with the lovely sky blue
thinking of the first line, nothing but a true clue
it pass two hours, there is nothing but an empty sheet
creaking my brains up, with my body still on the seat glued
hearing tickling clock, and my uncomfortable moving feet
suddenly, the weather became cold, and my hand was froze
it pass four hours, there is still nothing but an empty sheet
my hand couldn't move, cause the first line was a puzzle
the cold weather brought a cold chilled wind
that blew off my empty sheet, i wept for my empty head
which produced the empty sheet
it pass six hours, the atmosphere was dark
i look out it seems night everything is black
i could not find the empty sheet, but a lighter and a candle
i light my candle and it slipped, and i could not handle
it felt right on my empty sheet
i just thought of all that happened
and found this poem...
i took another empty sheet, and filled it with my empty heard :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem