Yes,
It is again the same,
The full rotten teeth,
The same old patch,
Of provocative pain.
I feel like days last longer,
Like an hour was as three,
I count each minute up,
One, Two, Three.
Extravagant.
The poor use of words,
The over-populated body,
Soon to discover the truth,
And soon to lie,
To you,
& Everybody.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Discovering truth with words