Vacant stare, noons a nighmare,
fours hours to prepare,
for the outside-
Mothers and there children pollute the street,
the sickening smiles leave you weak.
Jumkies pill poppers winos whores,
residents of a useless world.
why does everbody stare,
why do your care,
cause they will take you away,
nursey wont help shell make you pay,
for your difference.
laughter richochets to and from your every limb,
whilst all those eyes burn through your skin.
A day out is a trip to hell,
away from your room away from your shell.
The sun seems to trace your every step,
just like those memories you strive to forget.
so much pain for a trip to the shop,
a challenge of all challenges,
you hate that queue,
as much as you hate you.
you hate the morning, NooN and especially the night,
when the demons come and feed on your fright.
Vincent, you succeed in conveying the terrible atmosphere, and the trap aspect of living in it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Vincent, not exactly a trip to the happy place is it? but as for the poem excellent. Regards Graham.