if there is something wrong
i console myself with, oh,
it is just a state of the mind,
a matter of perspective, nothing
to worry about, but then things
are really going wrong, blood
pressure rises, anxiety sets in,
loneliness gets wacky, and
emptiness spreads like a mantel
on the table, but oh, i still
assure myself, it is just a
matter of feeling, of looking
at these things, we are miserable
because we allow ourselves to feel
miserable. But, let us get this
straight, we are miserable, and
then the last defense comes, to
save ourselves and just survive,
and this is it, so what? so what?
are you not miserable? ows?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem