You.
You, my other me, who never sees the sun
But dogs my every step and mimics all my moves
Like some demented wraith.
For all the useless lacky that you are
For all your grey and voiceless form
I’d miss you if you disappeared.
For how then could I be?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poem, Chris