As I enter the living room of
my georgian style home in the
suburbs, I realize that all
that stands between chaos and
I, is a thin pane of glass. From
chaos, from disorder, and from
the occasional raping by the man
up the street who frequently
offers to take your children out
for ice cream. just a thin layer, a
thin pane of glass my friends...
but it's so much more. for it is not
pictures through glass in which we
stare, your eyes are also all that
seperates your mind from a world
of such chaos. allow not for chaos
to rule you through the looking
glass, but allow rationalities to
faze you through a beautiful
mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem