In the beginning there was nothing.
Sitting still in a room made of paper,
I reached for my pen.
I came to this conclusion.
I've reached this point on my own,
Without you.
Within this room I will rip and tear
Until I come to the outside world.
I don't know what is real and fake.
I reached this state of mind on my own.
Your stealthy ways will sneak by my paper room.
I'm in a place of color.
I'm in a place of realization.
I'm in a place of demand.
Yellow trickery is used everyday
in stacks distributed to almost all
filled with new things
almost obsolete.
Interesting concept. I have written something of a similar title, but this seems to differ greatly from what I have written. I like this, it's very deep. I hope to see more like this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Your stealthy ways will sneak by my paper room.' Another powerful poem... Top marks...