Dreaming of what is fake.Why am I, then.By the brake of day.Feeling so much like the dead.Graved by messages from the tombs.I am to stoned to be ruined.Next to my shadow.I am mere the grey inside the shade.Becoming nothing.My mind is on fire.She is screaming.Deep inside my head.She wants to get out.Being a prisoner to my darkside.You will never be freed.I am sliding, deeper into the shallows.This I believe without a doubt.The reason why my soul circles in a dead end.Pretending to be a black hole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem