those voices inside me calling
for me to trace paper curls
in my sleep as well as waking
i tried to let it be tomorrow
but i keep hearing cries within
maybe i should, i should love them
narrow path of silver plated wall
so shiny i could see my lips droll
i tried to cover it up and i laugh
mimicking every move i sure do have
here in this corner vantage point
i see street light so as crescent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem