I am still here.
In your head,
The closet, the loaf of bread
On the kitchen counter,
Molding itself, inedible,
Useless.
I am a slice of moldy bread
In the kitchen trash can,
My voice an empty rasp,
My mind eroding beyond,
Beyond, beyond, beyond,
This song sings my heart, coarse,
Sad... I feel my thoughts
Melting away - disintegration,
At its finest.
Hello, my Honor, to whom
Do I pay this handsome visit?
Have you come to consume me,
After all?
I would rather prefer this,
Seeing how I have no more purpose.
I am simply a piece of moldy bread,
In a trash can, awaiting your judgment.
For one who has not mystique, love,
The right to - vote. There is no
Option other than
The belly of the beast or,
Forever stagnate - my thoughts can only be odious - life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For one who has not mystique, love, very interesting expression, ui do enjoy,10+, thanks for sharing