No depth has yet proven.
To be too low.
For those mindblowers.
Whether to do quickly.
Or shown can be done slow.
And each day.
24/7 as if to be entertained.
Many rush to sit.
Giving up their minds.
Awaiting to donate,
More of their consciousness.
Or whatever is left of it to permit.
A life accepting to feed on nonsense.
And each day.
As if entertained.
24/7.
Unnoticing light,
Dimming from their brains.
Diminishing.
Without it admitted to witness finish,
A reality.
For them that had no meaning.
To know when it began to end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem