The sound follows me
Wherever I go
I ask if they can hear it
They only say no
I seem to have gone mad
But I know I have not
For I still am conscious
And know I will not rot
Irrational swatting
At the sound in place
I think it is a fly
Oh woe! It leaves no trace!
It's finally stopped
The sound I mean
All along it had only been guilt
That cannot be seen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awesome poem, unsu: P haha. Yes unusual things can inspire great poems :) nice.