When the food hit my stomach
I got hurt. I mean not physically
But in a strange way.
Why does all the stupidest ideas
Come at the dinner table...
I want to go away
Where nobody has gone.
I just want to part goodbye.
As usual, there was nobody present
On whom I can show my temper....
But the memories....
The relentless memories
That just wouldn't go away.
Strange thing is that
With every mouthful, I also
Have to digest all the
Stupid, violent little ideas
That came to me,
Until I was cool with
My mental hygiene again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem