My hands are mere measurements of my disdain for the human existence.
And everything that one day hopes to be complete.
And I'm succumbing to theories found in labrynth's of minds
Hoping to accomplish a history for my name.
Infinite numbers deliberate amongst themselves.
This world is no longer a place of refuge.
We're all aware. But none propose action.
And on that note I will swallow this planet whole.
You all will decay in my digestive system
And I will chuckle with every plea for help I abandon.
Good luck to you all for your misfortune was well needed for my entirety.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem