Black cat's shadow holds my vision in an angle of attack,
Attack at the back of my mind; frigid and black.
Pen to face, a position I find mself in over and over again.
Again to the saddened state with my face to this pen.
Fire in the corner burns, with a continuous desire;
I envy my old days, with stupidity which I was dominated by.
By and by, but eventually these days were disregarded by I.
Now I have slight wisdom which furrows my brow.
My brow which sits in an intensity; ageless from the now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i agree, don't know the form, but well formed.. seems syllabic, didn't read, but itf yuo did do this, then we a in the part of someone destined for greatness.. nice