Frightening aspects of identity crowding closely inside,
removing memories and laying them side by side.
Flattened out, appearing to be pictures, once in a while
coming to life as in a movie.
Images stepping in and out, faces looking about, eyes
staring, glassy scary, vacant, seeing only pleasures
within.
Not noticing the damage being done, sitting quietly,
excitedly, to be fulfilled.
Alone, so frightened, cold, wondering when it will be over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem