The sight of a memory,
The sound of my name,
You must hate the notion,
Can't wait to set flame.
Move past the ashes,
Sift through the pain,
To recover the idea,
That you're not insane.
It was me, never you,
Self-deluded with shame,
Just move through the motions...
Pass me by all the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem