I hate when it hits me like that,
that awful feeling
of missing everything.
I miss my old solace
more than usual today.
The dreadful discomfort,
attempting some type of
self-therapy
by means of a
lonely
'creative'
lifestyle.
I can't even find the right words.
I never can, really.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what do we say (or rather do) when words are not enough? simply amazing write - keep it up.