Inanimate objects remembrance of yourself
Trying to look away
Concentrate preludes
With 'This' I am doing less
than moving on
It bites inside to see you move
I want to be happy but this is too hard
Why did this not hit so hard then
If it was not meant to be
I feel so alone now with no one to see
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem