Standing alone with my nose turned up
Sitting awake in my bed
Pouring a glass; a half empty cup
Pouring my glass till I’m dead
Staying still half empty for life
And keeping to the dark
As if darkness was my wife
My heart displays her mark
Never growing sick of her
Although she likes to bait
And underneath my skin does stir
But with her I placed my fate
Look down the aisle and see my bride
Look down to see my death
Look down to see one hell of a ride
While I’m taking my last breath
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem