It always seems darkest,
Before...the...
"Dawn? "
No!
Even though that may be true.
"How about,
The Sun beginning to rise...
To witness on the horizon? "
Hmmm.
That's true too.
I hadn't thought about that.
"But...
What is it,
That seems darkest?
Before the what...? "
I was thinking,
Of something much more personal.
Like being slapped back into consciousness.
Overcoming an addiction to delude,
Reality.
Kept to keep medicated.
And denying the existence of it.
"I know you are not talking about me.
Are you? "
Oh no.
Are you kidding?
I'm talking about those,
Who had been conscious.
And not to have gone,
That long away from it.
To be slapped a few times.
With an awakening to be grateful,
Someone noticed there was hope left...
For their revival.
"So...
What is it you're trying to tell me?
I'm not deserving to be slapped? "
Oh...
You are deserving of it.
But...
There is a difference between,
Enjoying it to love.
Than understanding the purpose.
And the significance of why,
It was done to find a necessity.
Not pleasure to want.
Or believe from me,
This wish to deserve.
You?
Are into 'kink'.
Me?
Not.
"Oh.
I'm glad you explained it that way."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem