Trapped in idiological abysms
Flooded by metaphors and synonyms
Literally speaking you've sinked
But you know, you blood's inked.
Halfheartedly you stare at the paper
You don't want to dissapoint her
So you say. But deep down inside
You yearn to escape to the outside.
For once these desires aflame,
Nothing you do can them enframe
So like sand trapped in a fist
You feel them ooze out with jest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a beautiful write. loved your ink.