Wondering blindly in this hour of despair.
Contemplating the choices I've made, placed in this chair.
Seeing myself through the mirrored looking glass.
Devising my design.....
Knocked down......
Still yearning to climb.
As I take these 12-steps to my future,
playing the good son no longer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem