I've got this aching feeling,
a dull hint of wanting
it doesn't take much thinking
to know I'm in need of cutting.
My patience is growing thin,
and I search my pocket for a pin
my needing surely not a sin,
as I slowly let it sink in.
The deeper I go
the better it is
the less that I know
what reality is.
All my pain
just drifts away
racing the fast lane,
diverting my way.
I feel so light,
I've waited so long
now there's no need to fight
as I slowly drift along.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem