Easily swayed, is my naïve mind.
Never planting its roots in any one idea.
Constantly leaning,
whichever way,
the wind blows.
Longing for love, it takes hold,
of any little sliver of attraction.
Mutual or not.
Trying to make,
something out of nothing.
Craving satisfaction my mind searches for entertainment.
Looking for a means by which it might be fulfilled.
Visual stimulation.
Lyrical articulation.
Tyrannical domination.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem