Prepare yourself for the avalanche
These marks won’t make you immune
From the feelings of stone and cold;
There’s no escape, you’re meant to be stolen
All we ever thought we were are now creased
Trash that list, the walls give way
There’s no winning, I take back my song
As you took my tomorrows in your pocket
I’ll try running away from you
Even if the slightest touch of your face
That my mind creates makes me slip away;
A greater hole is made from the tears within
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem