There at the window,
I stand and look at the dark thunderous clouds,
There I sat staring at the blinding sun moving motionless,
There at the window I think of what was my family,
There at the window I lay motionless,
There was no evidence,
I killed myself because off pain,
Pain I cannot describe,
That is why I stare at the window,
To see myself reborn or die,
This is the oracle off my life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.