To care, in life, for all the things worthy of putting two thoughts into,
Is not the most simplistic task.
The conclusion, of producing feelings for things people do,
rather than people themselves,
has created, a sort of barrier, between reality and dreams.
Try playing this song, on broken strings.
The lonely bird is within your hands, oh please dont break his wings.
The repetition of words creates a mind who produces one thought.
Seeing the wanting, of what you have always sought.
Sitting on the hardwood floor, right in front of your eyes.
Producing a quite enticing image, lacking most of your lies.
And with the concluding image of time, stuck on your mind.
Don't worry, the clock won't stop, and once home, i'll always be here for you to find.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You seem to have a very original style of writing. This is a poem full of suggestive thoughts. I am sure you are developing a unique poetic voice. Nice poem. Keep writing.10/10