I spend my days with no purpose
because I'm dead right to my core.
I'm saddened by each rising sun.
The pointless hours I spend in bed
are not for sleep
because even dreams deserted me.
There's no excitement in this life
I'm forced to endure
Nothing to look forward to,
not even a challenge
to set the fires with in me ablaze.
That I'm reduced to envying dust
for it's purpose seems greater than mine;
to go where the wind blows.
I'm stuck here in this hopeless blur
without a purpose.
I'm nothing but a corpse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem