Turning back the hands of time, as I watch memories of youth.
Seeing the intensity with which I entered into anything I ever did.
Supporting my inner ego, giving it reasons to stay alive while all the time wanting to let it die inside.
Drawing when younger, letting out all emotions in pictures of thought I was seeing.
Later, starting to write words that were put together and made sense to myself and others, giving an impetus to continue experimenting with my intellect and imagination.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem