She watches in the murky lighting
Not thinking about yesterday
Not thinking about today
Not even
Thinking about tomorrow
Depleted
By her lack
Lack of knowing
why the leftover of her, still stands
The tale
That makes her who she is
Isn’t there
In the end
She
is just there
She
just is
merely by prospect
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem