Itinerantly pacing this hollowed mind.
Searingly searching within this darkened horizion with nothing to find.
Honed and polished, time's blade pierces the heart.
Unknowingly seeded in doubt, he now must part.
Shakingly....., trying to stich the rift that only grows.
Only to stumble, inferring the fed flows.
Heavily lain amoungst the rest.
Seemingly his best is not, tis only a jest.
Coming to terms, his best only takes it further down.
Touching lightly upon the dampened soul's dark pool to drown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem