Word and time enough.
Smile would stream through my eyes again
In admiration of myself
With the distance clearly close
With sadness choking the joy
Cancerously making me pay for the pains I never induced
The tale of my life turning tragic
With every episode mocking my existence
I have come this far in a non ending race of thorns
Happiness seems never returning from its break
Sadness dining with me in the tinning rope of existence
The rope grows tinier each time we had a meal
Hypertension the word it insinuates
My saviour is me
The race begins at the colonisation of thought by fear
Tis, it must end by my freedom of thought
Dear existence,
Is freedom truly slavery?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem