Standing on the verge of exhaustion,
Feet dangling just over the edge,
Testing the temperate waters.
Wriggling closer and closer,
Toes stretching just a little farther,
Searching for the bottom...
Sleep rises up,
Grabs you,
Drowns you:
First in blue,
Then in red, purple, and black.
Visual mayhem, child of peace.
Fictional monsters
Trespassing in your head
Rip apart serenity,
There's gotta be an end to this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem