Pressure building in this head, filling it with pain for a
few minutes and then lessening until the next time.
Wondering why all the world has gone gray, sitting in the
midst of it.
There's no delay in anything, it all comes to pass when it
is time and life no longer matters, having run out of it's
everlasting life support line.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem