Times so slow in this hourglass of infinate sand,
If this is my life, It is depressingly bland.
No fun, no games nor the sound of laughter
From a smile, to a grin and a frown thereafter.
I'm hoping for time to speed up just a little,
As I ensconce in the cold, slowly becoming brittle.
I start to feed off the rage and leave happiness behind.
I am thrilled by the hatred and begin to lose my mind!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem