I see the moon's warm smile as it shines upon the trees
Ingesting the sweet opium of silent symphonies
The sweet yet chilling peacefulness I hear with open ears
Exposing a bruised soul that I've hidden many years
It's existence an enigma to an ego much too large
And I shoved it to the waste side when my habits were in charge
Guiding me into a fortress equipped with built-in mirrors
Where I rotted in self-pity and amplified my fears
Image, worth, esteem—all self's crafty guises
All of them diminish but obsession quickly rises
The internal world's chaotic and borderline psychotic
So I cling to the external world, its opinion quite despotic
I surrender to the voices of an outside entity
For you judgers of the world, you hold my identity
'Am I good enough? ' I ask, to a scrutinizing crowd
The compliments are quiet, but the criticism loud
I can only see the evidence supporting my perception
And I twist attempts at compliments into a misconception
To affirm the cold hypothesis ingrained within my head
Chewing away my sense of worth—my confidence is dead
And until I finally realize happiness is within
I'll struggle for contentment in a war I'll never win
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem