I laughed in spite my self as the cartoon drawing run
mad in my head.
The cat at the window doing his best to call the
birds from the tree.
The tea is warm the sofa cold how I wish I hadn't got that
leather sofa.
The need to be my own self take over on days like this
and finding my feet appear to vanish, I become the only thing
that has been made by the twisted men I've had.
Still I laugh in spite of my self and play with the dark demons
that live in my head, ooo I didn't think but yes a shotgun will
do.
And yet I can't really do that it would make to much mess and
it's my day off from being me.
The giggles spring up and I almost spill my tea, as the cat calls
the birds and next door dog barks.
In spite of my self this day doesn't seem that bad and problem
just seem to float away, it's not so bad taking time away from
the person the person that was made out of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Maria, such an interesting poem👍👍👍