Filling angrily with frustration, wanting to lash out
and get rid of this abiding feeling.
Leaving me hanging like wet laundry on a line outside,
causing prisms of unbound justification from surfacing
in an abhorrent way.
Listening subconsciously to interior melodies, hiding
deep within an abyss, wielding unpopular beliefs and
causing a deformity of unclear thinking.
People talking idly about, nothing important, filling
up space with their particular noises, aggravating
interior frustration outwardly also, where it's not
wanted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem