the bluest of skies with the softest of textures. they can only last so long. snow capped peaks sit through bitter weeks of winds and harsh chills. thousands of feet down as the world moves on i find myself stuck in the sands of the gloomy pits in the earth. I'm not worried about the here and the now. i am more worried about the past catching up with me and taking the lead. and almost as important. the future that ties in quite nicely
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem