Little pictures of lightning crashing thunder in my head. I lie and tell myself I can be a better man. If only, if only to earn holding your hand
Let this rain wash me of my sins, and come pounding down though the prayers of my friends.
As I hold up my own timid nature. The screams become little whispers asking questions I can't bare to answer.
There's a light cutting through the atmosphere around me. I can only make pleading sighs hoping to gain sight and see.
See, she is emitting electricity, causing spark to form inside of me.
Inside of me my heart again began to beat.
Now I feel my way around lost in the trees, shaking the frost from my leaves unable to breath.
As if punished by God's own fury I am left in the forest so far from eve. Will I survive the storm or be carried down stream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem