Short Poem by Albert Witz
Short
Some people think of me as a minor,
Major amounts of thoughts
Feed the inner most parts of my heart.
A loss of self, significant in theory, living my boring life so dreary.
I feel the need to control these feelings.
I just can't find the strength.
But isn't that where you come in?
A guiding light in my world so dim.
You'll rescue me from my self some day.
I just hope it won't all be too late.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 12:18:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
