It is almost 12
midnight nigh i cannot
sleep
i cannot say
that i am thinking of you
it is just
random thoughts
like tiny meteors
shooting
in all corners of my
mind
i like to simplify
that perhaps
at the strike of the
forbidden hour
a chariot turns into
a pumpkin
a princess loses her
shoe
and i can be back
into a
mouse
the hour has come
i am back to
my nightmares
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What an idea for a poem well layed down