Ceilings of memories which vapours into nothing. Where did my mind go, where did i become part of the slow. The fall of the great, thorned circles doubles to be my 8. Sundown when the moon rises, rundown when the sunsets, shadows of doom is not the prize to be suprised. Lost by, lost in, lost out. Who shoulder your tears to wash away the pain, when the rainbows shines what passed is the rain, never the in of sane. Exploding from the barrel is my calling, my name is splattered on the walls, blood paints the ceilings. I felt not the emotion, i felt no feeling.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem