Doleful prosperity leads to desperation.
Doubting one's own worth.
Suicidal thoughts crosses the mind; the double mind.
Involuntary to voluntary actions.
Now, stepping into those redden heals; gliding into.
Misleads of beliefs.
Cunning the money and spending makes you real?
Reality fades;
Money, cars and those;
trades away.
Death has come.
Yet, somewhere in between realms;
awareness seeps.
Morning dews are feeling,
in
brand new shoes.
For you can choose
in the cycle
of your cross over.
"You can be a boss! "
With the new divine make over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bree, such an interesting write👍👍👍