In a dimly darkened room, watching as another day
crawls slowly by.
Figuratively playing with matches, wanting to
burn away sorrow and regret.
Knowing it would never work - always haunting in
the background undisturbed, lightened knowledge
stepping in time to unknown beats.
Playfully adjoining undesirable scripts of bended
learning, with tricks of undisclosed development.
In brown, plain wrappers, hidden from another's
view or disclosure, staying in the shadows of a
dimly lit, darkened room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem