I put my hands over a freezing fire
I fall to the ground and land on a soft rock
I look up to the sky and what do i notice
A group of worms burrowing into the clouds
I cannot feel the warmth with the shoes on my hands
Nor can i feel the cold with the gloves on my feet
I can see the suffering with my own ears
I can hear the torment with my own eyes
I shout with a whisper
I whisper with a shout
I am dead and i am conscious of that
I am beaming with life and cannot feel a thing
Yes i am confused, bordering the depths of craziness
That is how i was made, molded and shaped
Because the world led me to believe
That what is bad is in fact good
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Haha ooooh my goodness this reminds me so much of a poem I wrote called in the land where tears fall up. I honestly like yours alot though