I made it here.
To the point where I don’t care,
To the summit of indifference,
The peak of acceptance.
Switched off the lights.
Hung my coat by the door,
On a rusty old nail,
Then pulled up a chair.
What brought me here
Was a gentle breeze,
No thunder or lightening,
No lifting from my feet.
I walked it alone,
Took my time,
Then made this place mine.
Pushed the chair to the fire.
Back to the wall.
Lit my last cigarette,
And
Exhaled it all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem