Trials
In
Our lives are plenty.
We get psychological torture
When faced with them.
Tied
We are,
While quitters we become.
With a deep sigh
We get another sign,
Not to resign.
In
Doubts we remember the debts
Owned by us,
Quickly we retreat
To our schizophrenic cocoons.
Once,
In our niche
We forget that we are unique.
Despite this we manage to phlegm
We let go our pseud character
And a new we, we enact.
Asap!
We are hit with a paroxysm
We become optimistic
Letting go of the absurdism.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Without trials there are no victories. Your level of victory depends on your level of trials. Good work