I've got some insects in my stomach.
They all live there for the air.
Somehow we were all made from nothing.
But these people don't seem to care.
The moon is running circles
Around a world we call our home.
But the men here will wage war
Until they are all alone.
We're all alone.
You could read me like a puzzle
From the cover of the box.
But if I mix up all the pieces
Your soul will end up lost.
Lets go back years ago
To when I was just a kid.
I've got an anthill at my feet
And a sword made from a stick.
Death is quick.
This world is just a castle
A boy made in the sand.
The tide is coming soon enough
To wash away the land.
My glass is getting more empty
With every death I have to see.
And my head is getting lighter
Like a balloon that needs to breathe.
I need to breathe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem