Tired
I'm worn out
and all my color is gone.
and I don't want to do this anymore.
but I don't have a choice.
because after a certain point.
love doesn't give choices.
it gives sleepless nights.
and it turns my eyes to a
helpless
empty
bland
brown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sleep deprivation is bad....nicely written :)