As I awake in every morning
My unhappiness serves me as a warning
Like a dead corpse abandoned in a snowy desert
I feel no consciousness except for misery
With no comfort, loneliness is my convert
Perhaps a piece of a long bad history
A universe inverting me to be in rescissory=7
Which makes me feel unwanted
Which makes me feel haunted
It’s the misery that could make one sometimes flaunted
One is ought to be taunted
When they’re nowhere to be found in the sea
So agree that you must be free
In order to be in adequacy=14
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem