One living on the surface.
With life like that as a purpose.
Just to serve the optics.
To worship can be a curse.
And this shows,
There's nothing else in one's mind that occurs.
And this shows,
There's nothing else in one's mind that occurs.
Yes this shows,
There's nothing else in one's mind that occurs.
But image.
And optics to objectify.
Only the image remains occupying,
In one's mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem