Why not run out of breath now? There's nothing to fine anyhow. Somewhere in the air, something calls out I swear. Dragged another way and conclude the hint of hope. Sing out your knowlege of how to cope. One thing to throw you off and back to the ground again. Where nothing of life makes a sound. Create your own image of the world around. Push away your feelings and hate what's known. I've gotten all of these emotions shown. Dreaming of each feeling throughout the night. We need to remind ourself that nothing is alright. Cover yourself in a cloud. Feel that there's nothing but a shroud of black, and uneasy darkness. Tense. No hope. Comply to your surroundings and notice: there's no help, no reason, nothing more to do than sleep in that very special bed of rest, in peace and not a thing more. Dream at a never ending streak of what you're dying for.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem