Burn what's left 'till powder remains
Destroy my flesh, like there's no rain
Where will I go? After this smoke
What will change, back to the yoke?
Where will I BE?
That seems to be an eternal mystery
When the smoke is gone
and my powder there
You'll stop creating me
just stand and stare
I'll not be,
a complete end
of
'The ME'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem