where is it that you go?
in your tormented mind,
when the moon is high and the lights are low,
wanting to get out of here?
to find a box,
for all that fear.
Drowning in those cries and screams,
punching tolchocks in the air,
hiding behind your disturbed dreams,
of finding a place for Mr Hide,
where lust, thruth and pain
collide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem