I wonder silently
when next the sun will rise.
When do I wake
to collect my prize.
I don't want to be lonely
but I don't like people.
To befriend a coffee table is a sign of madness.
Then I want to be mad.
Harold and I are perfect together
he angularly suits my incongruities.
I don't need your definition of normal
to complete my life.
I'd prefer to be happy
in my head, by myself,
then troubled by all of your queries;
all that you hold dear.
You're like a boy holding a glass of water
in a swimming pool.
You fail to see entirety.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem