under the cold stars
my heart begins to weep.
the flickering candle
shadows what i used to be.
i only wish my head
was six feet under.
buried where no could
see the nightmares.
sun shines down on me
but i feel no warmth.
a zephyr wind
howls with bitterness.
someone please remind me
what i used to be.
what i'm supposed
to be......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is always time to turn the rudder on the ship.