With no sense of natural rhythm.
And no sense of what that beat kept,
Keeps...
Within a soul that can feel this deeply.
Without losing sleep.
Out of tune and out of step...
Are they in search of assurance.
And yet,
An acceptance of who they are is rejected...
For fear that correcting what is out of sync,
Would be to admit their imperfectness.
And this will not be admitted.
Even if denial affects mental aspects...
Of a self destructive praise implemented to isolate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem