These days,
Whenever I look into the mirror
I see not myself nor my picture
But a lonely man, trying to put on a brave front
I see you, a better part of me that is torn!
I see a man so tired and afraid, so lost
And ordinary man who forces his face to smile
While his soul yarns for a staff to lean on
All I see is a man who in thoughts 's gone many mile.
A man who saunters on the carpets of depression
And shambles the darker streets of delusion
Trying to keep up his pace and senses
Even when he finds no ecstasy, no happiness
Nor finds he solace in this race surnamed theses
For it stings so badly and gives no sweetness.
These days, oh these swollen days!
Whenever I look through this broken mirror,
Of memories dread and pains,
I see not myself nor my future,
I see you, haunting past.
Then I guess I need a change, fast!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem