The dark voice approaches
the walls are caving in,
she needs to get a grip on her self,
and stop listen to the voice within.
The neck-hair raises,
the feeling of being watched
closes in,
she looks back, expecting
to see the sour grin.
She needs to get a grip
on what's reality and not,
she can't lose herself now,
her own reality is all she got.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem