Every night I lay awake,
Planning the night I will escape.
I say to my self it won’t be long, until the attempted,
And it will all be gone.
Until that night,
My eyes put up a fight,
Laying awake thinking about a wife that waits.
My eyes shout dreaming off then I finally awake,
Thinking about the hour that I ask my morning shower,
There I will escape waiting by the gait for the car of fait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this piece very strong.