I am not here.
my eyes reflect the sky
and bleed tears of constellations
as I sweep through this planet
with a grin of uncertainty
that these wings may
only last one more day.
as restraint cracks the surface
of the core,
lava melts my
translucent mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is exactly the kind of poetry the world never sees enough of. Transcendent.