This chiselled jaw conceals my wrinkles,
Inside I rot. Do they know their luck
That they can drink, smoke, f***,
Without a thought? Whilst I’m in peril,
Beneath my mask of youth. A pretty shell
For an ugly hermit, drowned by oceans
Of doubt. An alphabet of fears, notions
Of escape from an unavoidable hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very good and heart felt and deep emotions too.