The cycle repeats itself for all of time.
The only way to feel, for me, is to rhyme.
With fancy words, it may seem like a game.
But to me, without them, its never the same.
A kind smile, a hand to hold.
They mean nothing without a mold.
Words are binding, words are true.
Words last longer than kisses do.
I wish I was different, I wish I was sane.
But the same things happen again and again.
I don't understand what my mind is doing.
These phrases and rhymes will be my undoing.
There are voices inside and they speak to me.
They teach me to live, but I need to be free.
All they do is torture me.
I want them to stop, please help me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem