When? My senses are failing, my lips are now cracking
my vision is blurry, and my heart, is it beating?
my fingers are numbing, unconsciously shaking
When? My fingernails are dark hued, my hair - 'tis falling
I can feel my blood rushing through my prominent blue veins
but I ain't noble, so what does it mean?
Solitude? No, I'm lonely - I can't even see green
The skies through my window is drawing me out
but most, I can see merely are cracked white walls,
crowned with rusting barbwires and some broken poles
Beneath my feet, on the edge of the bed, old clothes are suspended
every strengthless movement, the bed squeaks, like my knees
in pain, my flesh 'twas like falling apart
but more than all these - Oblivion.
When? I'm dying ahead my dear- way too younger than you might think.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A haunting poem. I enjoyed it. Thanks for sharing.