Seeing no reason why, I close my
eye’s and walk home not
wonting to fight. Pretending the
stars are made of tin I can see
you among them dancing and
living again. Hating all the
reason why I try to forget the
shadowy figures of longing and
dread as I know we will dance
and sing again. Having no
answers to the bad dreams I had
last night, I sit on the old swing
hoping on something I can’t
bring myself to believe in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I suppose that the spelling mistakes and the grammar are part of the imagery, but it confuses me, I'm afraid.