In times of darkness never ceasing,
Crushing fury, never easing
Swallows me like fleshy foods
Consuming my happy moods
And destroying what remains.
Leaving nothing but my pains.
Rushing waters flowing past,
Voices of a ghoulish ghast
I look towards it, drawing nigh
It rotten arm points towards the sky.
'Like you, ' it says, 'I'm dead inside
Nothing secret, nothing to hide.'
The dead are dead, the live alive.
On happy things the live survive.
On true things my poems feed.
It's honesty my poems need.
A quiet understanding.
A silent voice, demanding.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem