Fortune comes to call
Insect perched on my thumb
Hope dies along with summer
I fold like a lawn chair
The sun hurts my eyes
But the beauty is worth the burn
Melt my frigid soul
Maybe it’s just too late
Winter makes me shiver
I argue to stay warm
Stupidity and simple living:
My heritage
All alone is what I want to be,
Yet what I fear to be
Being human weighs heavy on my shoulders
Regrets and doubts consume me
Repress
Suffer
Collapse
Repeat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem