Sometimes I sit here
Can't move, think
Can barely breathe
Waiting
For something to fill this hole
A hole inside me, inside my soul
Maybe we're all born with a hole
But we don't know why
Or what, or when, or who, or how
So we spend our lives
Trying to fill something
That won't ever be filled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem