Friends in the backseat
behind your driver's side searching for a reason to be alive
in the front I'm looking for a way to kill the time.
The road looks out
above a branch, the leaves head south
fall like the rest of us
not our fault but it felt like a plan.
Words tasted good in her mouth
but it wasn't enough to even make a sound.
and i felt that now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem