Eyes dry, sleep bare like a desert,
my mind full, thoughts served like dessert
wishes flowing giving fruits barren to heart
and questions popping tearing Alan apart
i feel the pain costumed in disguise of hate
hereafter, wondering does a heart bleed when its hurt?
time slowing, i age in steps of a second,
miles away, a promising minute never seems to approach
i see my pride saved in shame on an open plate
my dreams shattered, ambitions die on a vine
beaten to the cold, loneliness i whine
without u, a single digit i stand but came close like nine
everything drifts like the wind never to be mine
hope my dearest of companions, whispers i will be fine
After time, i will stand firm even to dine
To even bath my soul in fine wine
All becomes but a point along a cline
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem