I'm sitting on a time bomb,
Lets call it my life.
I'm sitting on the sidewalk,
While fingering the knife.
It's like we are spinning,
A bit too slow.
It's like the volumes,
A bit too low.
Like I'm looking for the key,
That everyone else has found.
Like I know the answer to the secret,
But in ignorance I'm bound.
Sometime in the future,
Things will come to right,
And the tears in my eyes,
Will stop blurring the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem