What am I as to wait.
What am I as to sink.
I chase after the sun,
Thinking I am catching the light.
I thought sooner or later the light will be surrounding every cells.
I stop for rest,
I found darkness is swallowing me.
And the sun that I've been chasing is illusion,
The product of over-thinking,
The fruit that grown when I'm trying to lie to myself.
Then I start to wonder,
And I questioned:
Who am I and What I am.
Why I am here and What I am doing.
Buddha tried to answer
As we need to experience 7 door.
The holy spirit answered we need to choose a path to heaven or we go down to hell.
What am I here as to think,
I swallowed bitterness and happiness,
But I can't manage to digeste it.
They are so fake
I feel like illusion.
Anger slap my face but feeling No pain.
sadness hit me at head but feeling No dizzy.
But I feel noisy when I hear No sound,
I feel thirsty as I swim,
Then I see the black but people told me it's red.
Sometimes I forgot to breathe and my heart pumped out of control that I feel blood are scrubbing blood vessel.
I feel itchy at that part.
I think I am insane.
I wish a doctor will tell me a medical psychological name, script me some drug,
At least it makes me feeling hopeful.
There are roads ahead,
But each leading to anywhere
That whatever life wants to bring you.
And I hate to die
I lived a life same as everyone.
Such a melodramatic idiot I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem