I feel a black shape taking form,
infiltrating to the core, I
hear footsteps approaching,
faceless, a figure, intimidating
Forced, compelled, into a corner,
we search for signs that lead us from
danger; wandering, we follow
the path of least resistance
Disconnected, the truth, must be
made to comply with reality
This is the struggle involved, as
the imperative becomes the
impossible
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem