it is a boring long, straight line
you walk upon it like you are an emoticon
changing the faces of a circle
finding a way to find your true self
you wish a blackout so the computer turns itself off.
a blur happens.
everything ends.
it is still a boring long, straight line in your mind.
because you will it to be.
try sitting down, settle like a little bird perched on a twig
on a sunny day
just watch what happens next.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem