This poem of mine is one of my first experiments with blank verse:
Neither me or my existence matters,
in this world of materialism.
Not feeling the essence of life,
drained by those with far more substance,
held by those at higher positions.
Getting out of this maze seems impossible,
but as said by many,
this word does not exist.
So I carry on with my existence,
which now clouds my vision.
I, myself do not hold great views about me,
but at least I try,
to stand my ground,
be more clear and clean,
not to wound others,
nor be left undefended.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem