Sometimes I wanna fly away in a dream
and reach to the clouds of oblivion,
So I will never come down to my endless fantasy
But my parents force me to get off that high and send me to rehab,
I told them it wasn't a problem but they didn't understand,
They only worry what's going to happen to me in the end
They think its an illusionist pain but to me it's a fantasy come to life,
The feeling of worries that is force upon me is gone,
and no longer I have to suffer the pain of reality
Let it run through my veins,
Let it give me that sweet bliss that I can taste with my lips,
It is my heroe, my savior, my god,
If it is poison, than let it be my gift and my curse
They don't know what their missing,
The feeling of you could fly is unbelievable,
Soaring through the sky with wings,
Flying towards the sun knowing it won't burn you,
But now they cut my wings by sticking me in this room with these doctors trying to help me,
If they really wanted to help, they could hook me up with that stuff they keep in the cabinets,
But these days doctors aren't cool like that anymore
No matter how much I tell them that nothing is wrong with me, they still try to help,
It was killing me inside,
I felt the doctors was taking all my happiness away making me feel hollow, a empty shell,
I was kept in a jar like butterfly suffocating
Luckily I got hold of my love
and rode on that cloud again,
Its funny, I never really came back down
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great title to a poem makes it much easier for the reader. Everyone old 'enough to remember will be familiar with cloud 9. I helps focus the writing and keeps it on track. I won't comment about the contents. Those are controversial enough. I'll just say, well done, to the reader. GW62