The bland taste of what is ours.
Thick eyes blurred for hours.
Silence choking,
white walls poking,
At our stale minds.
Colors burst into the horizon,
Outside my window.
Only to come back
In a different color.
Blood boiling under my skin,
fluorescent with a scent of
alcohol.
Aches in my legs.
rising with numbness.
we sit here in silence.
as you lay dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem