I am me.
I am myself.
Yet I am someone else.
Fingers and toes belonging to my body, I know.
Daring dreams that could be affiliated with none but me.
Although foreign thoughts, planted like seeds, are where they are not meant to be.
Clawing at these alien objects within,
I search for separation.
For if I do not I will surely succumb to this horrid sensation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem