We are incapable of loving
We are fond of blaming
Hurting, annihilating
Instead of cherishing and caring
Afraid of real true feelings
We prefer pretending
Spoiling and wasting
The priceless gift of choosing
The opportunuty of existing
We're on our way to collapsing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
read my comments on your 'Wrong Station' please