The color of the moon describes me
still like figure
it tells me
I come and go
why do you still mourn.
Why so hurt,
is there any killer barking from your neighbor,
or any supernatural being staring from a mirror
or is it a reaper who detached you from your soul.
I cry and order
to not ask questions which I cant answer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem