Yelling from within, trying to get nothing across, knowing
that nothing will be emitted through my mouth, only writing
will ever be enough to say what it is within.
Nothing is ever held back on pages of poetry, yet nothing
will ever be spoken of it.
Reality biting hard at every turn, as I walk into a land of
forbidden thoughts, thinking of the things that cannot be
spoken of, all the while calculating the measurements of time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem