I'm too silly
and vulnerable to
be an adventurer
I think I
lost enthusiasm for
writing because I
do not seem
to have ideas
I feel perfect
in my world
It's difficult to
find the right
solitude
I feel disastrous,
ugly and depressing
I'm so confused
that I do
not know what
to think, what
to do
Sometimes I feel
very special and
very silly in
thinking about it
Sometimes I want
to be totally
concentrated in my
creations without any
kind of distraction
Sometimes I want
be left alone
I am an
exceptional rarity
I am anguished
for my mental
health
I think the
loneliness doesn't hurt
me
I want to
force myself to
do more and
the best
I have to
learn to know
how to take
every opportunity
Sometimes I'm tired
to justify and
explain me
I fear to
not be able
to buy books
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem