Here I am, enclosed and out smarted
by the sick self.
Welded together, a thousand bombs would
fail to break.
And to listen to the outsiders
talk of brighter days
brings only an eclipse upon the world that is my own.
Where tears come involuntary
and pain causes paralysis,
where the clocks chime has become minor.
Giving birth and harbouring
wicked, sombre thoughts.
Escaping my entrapment
is only distant thinking,
as i look up at the flecks of lustrous brilliance,
guessing only what thrives there
and how our atmospheres compare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.