2 a.m and im still awake writing this note
if i get it all down then its out of my throat
no longer choking me or threatening my sanity
a release from a silent calamity
a remedy to my need to vent
evidence as permanent as cement
screaming lasts but a few seconds
talking helps but a few minutes
when i scramble my thoughts down on ink
then and only then can i freely think
of all thats been boiling up inside
of thoughts and feelings that collide
to form a rock a heavy burden
thats big enough to write a sermon
so this note, this note is not a note
this is me clearing my throat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem