As I susurrate my final words into the rocky ground,
I realize that there was never anything to live for after all.
And as I sucumb into the bloody truth,
I begin to search,
For the window that leads to my heart,
Yet all there is to find,
Are sharpened thorns and needles.
And as I recall the memories I’ve left behind,
I remember the path I’ve traveled through,
And become aware of it’s unimportance,
Yet if I hadn’t voyaged on it,
Nobody would have.
The finishing line is in sight.
And as I susurrate my final words into the rocky ground,
I realize,
For the very first time,
That there was never anything to live for after all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem