My line of sight, broken, blocked,
Behind clouds pitied by casted skies,
This dense, dark white that breaks,
The light into slivers round my head held high.
My fists and feet, flail and fight,
To clear the space around my eyes.
I look upon new lands of glass,
Once covered by the beaten grass, and sigh.
So let the clouds now sweep,
My thoughts, and bring back forth,
The lies. To bury beneath this mist,
The truth, beneath a sunken sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem