Cold air sorrounds me now.
Clouds carress my face daily.
Wings i have now taking care of me.
Endless freedom is all i can see.
Fire feels so nice somehow.
Stones grace my skin every night.
Nails are keeping me alive not killing me.
Endless freedom is all i can see.
The art of living is to breath.
The art of dying is die trying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem