The last refuge of the solitary stooge
The final placement where the faith belongs
The last challenge fading the in fog
My life; as it slips away
Seemed that I was no good at keeping it together
For all that I had was a cursed ivy charm around the neck
I tried to push her in the right direction
To struggle against the sins of the self
No refuge here
The great tale of youth is one of quick and ready sacrifice
The last of the childhood vice
The one true cornerstone of a man twice removed
If only are the starting phrases of the eternal loser
The struggle and defeat of backward looking charm
Not a refuge
As the last of the fine wines and spirits evaporate
As all you once held dear is cast to the wolves
As that charm evaporates and makes a move into
Deep dark desperation
None of the refuge you seeked
Would find you crouched here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem