People tied up in knots, not able to separate themselves from emotional turmoil, feeling it's intense pervasive odor, filtering into lives, sparsely holding onto so very little.
Beginning to move into circles that are never-ending, causing such upheaval that there is no room for pleasurable thoughts or events.
Glancing around, watching others traipse through their lives without any problems, wondering why it can't be them.
Searching for answers that just aren't available and maybe never will be.
Seeking memories of the past, hoping to find some vestiges of the times that were once good.
Traveling alone, set in silence, life becomes a stagnant picture album, gathering dust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem