I keep on surving, inside
But my veins are turning older
Like old adults
I take a trip, of what I remember
To when I was innocent and young
And I knew of no fear, no reality not-seems
And yet I still sing,
And remember times
Of when I was young
And I had no clue
Because I was aloud not to care
As a child
My veins were warm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem