The realisation of one’s insignificance,
is a cold knife driven slowly into the back
No excuse for being always late.
Talk of an implicitly excluded future
Social engagements slip off the tongue,
with a laugh
that sounds like cheap hollow silver.
Green eyes clog with brown mud,
water threatens to run over
The future rolls on
Separately, with no thought
The voice twists the knife just a bit more,
with a smile.
To conclude and confirm,
the insignificance of the other
Of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem