The mind is the scariest thing I know.
It is not like any darkness.
It is a transparent, life colour
Covering everything I am,
Like a murderous blanket.
It plays its own games to pass the time
Existing as deception, miscomprehension,
Between rainbows and storms.
From the sun-glazed hillside;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem