We chase time in hopes of fulfilling our greatest desires but do we ever get there? Or does failure kiss us bitterly in the tracks of time that we curse those we created us.
Do we question being alive in these times and think maybe the gods got it all wrong. Everything says it is a magical time for you to try this breathing exercise and maybe give birth to a new era of children who understand labour pains.
Who don't bend at the knees of injustice and whisper dreams so sweet back to us. Their eyes are photocopies of places we wish to go
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem