How can you be living when the true things that matter in being alive not the normal meaning of alive but the real meaning of alive. Really being alive is more than a beating heart, if you cant feel or connect. Being alive is more than a functioning brain, if it's your own prison. It's more than being able to breathe if you can't speak. More than seeing if your tears blur your view. More than a physical body if you walk around like a ghost that is cursed with a lifeless soul. So since I'm not alive yet not dead in society's terms than what am I. When you just want to go running back to the times in life that you controlled the choice of not being alive. When you didn't even feel the sense of not feeling. When even the feeling of numbness was not felt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem