Here; we all stand in front of a roaring death,
waiting for heaven bus to load
with heavy eyeslids shut;
our eyes slowly close
yet; we see homeless soul passing by each junction
Thou; death is nothing,
but at this momment in time!
we are all afraid of dying once
just after the third time we die,
i realised it was a dream;
and am only in the hospital
Uhm am wow here where night birds are on strike
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good one its lovely