Like a prisoner
Lying on his cot,
Staring at the ceiling
Looking for his God,
I, yet again
Another hospital bed,
What is it this time
Tormenting my head?
Tried the straight and narrow
But it may be now too late
To dream about tomorrow,
Life will have to wait,
Dreams and wishes
For something better
Wil not come true,
Neither now nor ever.
So here I go again,
Lying on this cot,
Staring at the ceiling,
Looking for my God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem