Silently, stilly, occupying a seat in backgrounds of eternity, preferring to exist in a blank space with no contact from anyone.
Being depraved of human decency, because of an abusive person sitting next to me.
Collecting every intuitive thought, gathering it in at the seams, just to let off steam.
Yet, the anger is still fuming inside, taking me down trails I'd prefer never to stroll.
Would rather be writing about something peaceful, instead here is a poem of angry distaste.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem