Should he continue to run from them?
or hide,
hide away deep inside of some where
else where it's not really dark?
The light, that we see if reality grows
show's it smaller and smaller, as I.
In it we turn......
Learning to go, but we don't.
Pushing to hard, though they grind, grinding,
grind, when hope runs out we forget.
What is what, when it was, what I can't seem to
forget ever was.
What it was like to as to when it was not!
Inside of the mind of a child.
Word's just can't describe what it is like.
Where as to being found wandering some where else
is like being some one else I think for a while.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem