A light which left and gathered in the eaves
Rough waking - weary slouching to unease
A voice that chides that no one ever sees
A flickering mirage of our best beliefs
Stale actions further frozen by degrees
Terrors sown that trash the flowers and trees
A choice of loss that every ill perceives
A cult that flays a gash on devotees
A future that is worse than death foresees
Repetitions which become decrees
A mindless pain progressing mind's disease
An outcast that may never ever please
A loss of mine and me beyond retrieve
The image lets the empty mirror seize.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem that describes depression so well. It seems nothing will soothe the black dog in the mind of sufferers.10+