Debating silently over debilitating facts, acknowledging their efficacies yet not wanting to face anything as yet.
Running rampant, over selective ideas, burying and hiding all that is dear.
Lolling around atmospheres of hidden refrain, calculating moments spent in fear.
Alive no more with wanton thoughts, life sits still, wondering what is next in it's reverie or plight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem