My final hurdle is up.
And I feel like I'm drunk in a pub.
Head swinging like I'm in a nightclub.
I wish I could hug myself in a bathtub.
Clock seems to be ticking very fast.
I could feel the heat for August.
I'm trying to hold onto it till my last.
Please don't make me feel trashed.
Sometimes these pricks my eyes,
Which burns my calm soul into ashes.
I feel naked through their words.
How do I even cease these?
Almighty!
You've never failed in guarding.
Gimme courage to fight like a viking,
Shower me with your blessing,
And I'll prove with all my everything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem