When the days grow longer
and the shadows seem to linger
the memories will reveal a sense of anguish
foreign to your train of thought
Wrapping around the intention span
and strangling your judgment
these specific memories will be the end
of everything you've built so high
Suffocating under the pressure
never to remember the remembrance
the strings of reality seem to tare
under the immense pressure of a daily life
These memories though
are not memories at all
they are you illusions
delusions
tied to the brain trapped inside a skull
belonging to a little girl
who just wants to be home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem