When Time becomes a chaotic mess,
Whose every step you calculate,
You know you are not meant for this life.
When the rising Sun becomes,
Like a traffic signal,
And a tremulous child is but a
Distraction to your concentration,
You know you are not meant for this life.
When the crowded subway stops bothering you,
And when meals become just a routine,
And alcohol just a stressbuster,
You know you are not meant for this life.
When uncertainties bring future worries,
And you are scared to challenge them,
When you stop getting stuck
Between imagination and reality,
You know you are not meant for this life.
When you start pitying the conspirators,
You don't blast curses at them anymore,
You know you didn't choose this life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem