Anticipation overwhelms.
Limitation produces qualms.
Escape is imminent,
to say the least.
To help create,
and keep the peace.
My heart is torn,
from here to there.
With no last stitch,
to keep the pair.
Decision is futile,
during these dire times.
Or its very likely,
I will lose my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem