He sleeps,
Sleeps in the hope of something better,
Dreams of butterflies and shattered glass,
Acid rain and birdsong,
He walks through the darkest tunnel,
He cannot see the light,
Yet prays to God it’s there,
Whilst the knives stab him in his gut,
Deeper every time,
And yet he laughs,
Because if he doesn’t laugh,
He will cry,
You can really feel and understand the character, and yet, you know that you don't really understand at all at the same time. Good descriptions!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The dreams were illusive and fascinating.Lovely poem Bethan.