Perhaps it was simply the total
cumlative effects of the psycical, and pyscological trauma.
Not really sought out,
yet the sun is and was so very hot.
I must seek it out and I have this like can you?
I must wait a while and please sit and rest with me.
Freinds the few did not know of they whom to trust they did.
Previously lived, hidden from veiw by some untrained, I Am burried.
I think I'm that crazy man,
hoarding rags throwing colors against the wall, at you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem