Things Happen for a reason.
Things feel like they don't.
Things you don't have control over and now you won't.
You've lost yourself in a summer haze.
Watching The calendar shift the days.
Lost in time.
Made to rhyme.
That summer haze will never be gone.
and you feel like you've Sold your soul like some little pawn...
But my son that summer haze.
has turned out to be your last days
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem