Every day is a page of choices, that we choose to read...As we turn the pages into a direction that may only lead to an evil deed.
We enter our, own mistake's 'river quake'...Drowning in our unresurfaceable pooling mistake.
We can't look back, without worrying too much...Or we'll be momentarily, crippled emotionally, by this crutch.
Falling, falling-further down...Flat on our face, upon the ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem