At the end of the week
I feel so weak
I go through weeks
Just to add up my weak moments
I had some inner peace
But, it was just a piece of me
Their thoughts flooded me
There was no point
They’re staring at me
Waiting to see me
But, I fall into the sea and swim away
The sun beats on me
The son of my mother… he hates me
But, at the end of the week
This is what I see
A sea full of weak people
And they’re all just looking for some type of peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, the words might be playing and joking, but their meaning isn't. Unsettling pictures in a strong poem. Warm regards and a score of 8 from Gina.