I'd never thought to blame my past, on whats to become and whats truly trash. But recently its all I ever seem to come about it, dream about it, I breathe it everyday. I caress it. I speak to it. In my thoughts everything seems okay. In reality I'd just like to break away. This is all a replay. same picture different frame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem