Coldness of the empty sun, alone in the heavens,
betrays the innocence within this heart.
So lonely, the beating of it, separating life in
fragments of time, allowing thoughts of death to
take hold.
Prisms shining outwardly, do not focus on the
eternal emptiness inside.
Not a soul knows what is going on within a mind
filled with lone, cold thoughts.
Holidays bring no happiness, just sorrow, heavily
laden with tears.
Turning away from life, walking through it's watery
grave, fear leaves itself behind and I become extinct.
A writer, a poet, no longer here on earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem