I already forgot my...what was that,
The loss of words
Fatalistic,
Melancholy
The crying window isn't important
Can't see, but need some air,
Our polish was yesterday,
But every day reminds me of you
We became a chalk line,
Hopefully someone out there cares,
Even when hammered to a certain point into the ground,
Maybe the ground never stays finished
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem