Tired of being weighed down in this spiritually exhausting place forced to keep this plastered smile upon my face.
I don't want to be here.
I don't want to be surrounded by these people, these houses- these illusions, these falsities- everywhere I go.
Stuck forever soaking in this distance, in this sameness, enough I surrender... to it all.
I'm tired of muting myself.
I've been scarred- Help I'm wounded, I'm crawling back, to the hut, out of distance, out of range.
You can't see me hopefully, forever- I've disappeared.
And all this is supposed to change with a family, with a wife, with children, and with time.
People haven't made the best decisions- but there I go again blaming, trying pride- feeling high, yet in still, I'm sooo low- yet in still.
Stuck in the middle of the meandering, in this mud, in this mire, in this muck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Not a very rosy outlook on life. It's true that today, there isn't too much positive to say. However, we are better off than during the Dark Ages. So cheer up you write well.