I'm going postal
Spastic movements and spastic thoughts
Limbs swinging desperately around
As if I've lost my grip
A billion internal changes because of one word
automatic rebellion against the burning of habbits
and I'm too distracted to hear your voices and advices
It's when emptiness stays that I can't ignore truth
And unignorable truth burns my skin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem