As childhood passes so does its ways.
Every morning responsibility hangs
Overhead like a sharpened blade
Made to keep me within its lane.
The alarm goes off within my head,
And lukewarm water washes sleep
Off of a face tired of the mold,
I suit up like the madman I am
And ride a metal steed to work
On the plantation of zeros and ones
Where growth is without the sun
And return is wished without death
By naïve farmers who blindly sow
Into lands of steel and rust
Then are surprised when nothing grows
From their seed thrown on the crust.
The lush memories of childhood fades
Age replaces the wilderness of youth.
Vanished trees with no branches
Surround me on all corners
Like a coffin; I am buried alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! ...this one is very deep and bleak. I found it very engaging and interesting. Nicely done!