Flowing
Slowly dripping
To my body and soul
In all his might
That
The thing called poison.
I have no "believe"
I don't have 'I'
To suffer and to save
I am a wholly capitalist
Against everyone.
Like saving money at the age of 90...
Ahh
My skin and my soul
Tired of pain and fatigue
But not tired
What kind of smoker am I?
Leave me now
I'm telling you in advance
But is there a possibility, oy nothing?
You found me pure without me
What did I write
Why did I write
Sometimes I can't understand
Restless
And like winds without a route
I lost myself...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'What did I write Why did I write Sometimes I can't understand Restless And like winds without a route I lost myself...' - true!