Holy F**k.
I am crazy.
My demons can't chase me.
The thought of it all.
The thought of you,
knowingly feeling confused.
The typical obsession of human feelings.
The inhumane way to believe emotion.
F**k this.
Holy F**k.
I'm going insane.
I can feel the bugs eating my brain.
The leftover mush is all I'll have left.
I'll have to make due,
make due with my death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem