Thousand soul surrounds me a day
It was likely to made connected
Therefore,
my eyes were attracted
Nothing fills the only you fill
Emptied never before but your memories made
Wait till seven
I'll get my work done
Meet you in a dream
so you can be forever
When I wake
It feels morning is fake
Slowly I pedal down the bed
I always find myself late
-: Festive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem