Carefully watching events happening in life, seeing people
for who they are, anticipating nothing, preparing for no
one.
Life is to be lived alone, there are no friends who choose
to understand this love of writing, misunderstandings a-
bound when speaking.
Meaning being taken from me, I do not understand any of it
except the pain, emptiness fills my being, I contemplate
it, feel the hurt it brings.
Alone, hating this very existence, but nothing can be done
about it, no one willing to get past the writing to see the
reality of this life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem