Bad days soon become bad nights
Bad nights soon become bad dreams; eventually your life becomes a nightmare.
Your vision becomes colorblind; the bright morning sun becomes a stream of dark clouds. Days become predictable; your life is taken from you.
Smiles are not contagious any longer; memories are lost, never to be found. They once lived inside of you but they have gone away with you. Forever lost…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem