One, Two, Three
The seconds slowly pass,
As I drown in the field of destiny
it surly cannot last.
But it goes on,
like a never-ending river,
and we are as a pawn,
at the thought, I shiver.
Sickening the mind
to be used be the divine;
fools that blind
not protective or benign.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
destiny is tiny...but you are mighty...a good poam