Sitting here on this decrepit chair
The sight of bald heads and thinning hair
The scent of worry, air full of fear
I wonder
What am I doing here?
The walls are drabby and ceiling is grey
No hope between these walls spirits stolen away
As I await the doctor moaning I hear
And I think
I just don't fit in here!
Its like a place for the living dead
And just like the disease the sadness spreads
The vibe in this room is filled with doom
Cant wait to get out of this cancer filled room!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem