Isn’t it funny
How life
Can be life
Without being lived?
And all you do
Is keep pulling the strings
And you move your arms
And you nod your head,
Sleeping through your actions,
Dreaming of coming alive,
Breaking from your bubble,
Spreading your wings to fly,
Free from all your troubles,
Wallowing in the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem