Depressing, and not in a realistic way
These fantastical situations keep emerging,
Creating a rut all too permanent
Covering all bases,
Exploring all possibilities,
But the edge is dull and the water is all tears,
So there just isn't much there to drink up
We are all born helpless,
But when self-awareness surfaces and hopelessness seeps in,
Well, the wobbly drive to respectability loses some gas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem