midnight-
quiet for the most part
except for the noise from the next room.
moonlight filters in through cracked curtains
(where is she today?) i call my past.
trapped by words, i fight
to keep this pen from overwhelming me
and i'm unpretentious, unobtrusive,
incoherent and inconclusive
but that doesn't mean i want to stay awake all night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem