There is a ghost knocking at my door.
She neither has a face or name.
She screams for me to just let her in.
But I can not.
I'm forever frozen in that moment.
It is the song of the dying mocking bird.
I question whether that's me.
A series mistakes to repeat.
Am I even alive if I do not know pain indeed.
Locked in a forgotten hideaway never to be seen.
You don't know me, but know I am still here are words that I do hold dear.
Again I'm embracing and facing that fear.
Strangers in paradise, lovers of a chilly and almost quiet rain.
Describing an alternate plane.
The place where I've always lived and am still afraid to let anyone else in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem