Loathing and contempt inside me war,
To be unleashed and spread beyond this shadowed door,
And yet though indisposed the door is yet closed.
Anything that seeks laughter does despairing,
Remain, and so I am cured quietly of caring,
And on the outside, zero change, but on the inside, chaos reigns.
When the world turns its indifferent back,
What is left for me but the madness black,
How can I survive when the fruit of my mind never lives, but always dies?
The hatred directed upon me turns inward, deep below,
And even so the darkness roils, red and slow,
And all that is is consumed, and the dead destruction resumes.
Loathing and contempt and despair and hatred and rage and broken-hearted disrepair and even so the spokes inside me seek to return to fair and I cannot ever be prepared.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem