My shovel is made from gold
The ground is quicksand
My gravestone reads 'blank'
Damn this wasen't the plan
I need a escape
So I grab a snakes hand
He pulls me up a little
Then he bites at me, so I ran
Back to the quicksand
Eternally I'm damned
My endless digging continues
As the night becomes day
The sun looks at me
And says there's another way
She said in a soothing voice 'the more you dig the deeper you get.'
'your shovel is golden so it will last forever
There's no need to continue this endless journey
End your pain, in a hurry.'
She is as beautiful as wise so I listen with care
As the night falls again I let the sand take me in
It's cold and it's everywhere
It suffocates me dry
I close my eyes and hope for the pain to ceese
Then I feel it
The end of my reap...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem