There is no past,
Just regrets;
That we carry within us
Through the years
That makes us heavy;
Storing pain like fat,
That puts the paunch in our gut,
The tallow in our jowls.
As there is no future;
Only the daily dread
That makes us sick with worry;
Aging us before it is time.
Mortified,
Our bodies break down
Over long, cast shadows
Which never come to pass…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem