A hollowed out structure.
Life, death and the idea of protection.
Is anyone really safe?
A person is on there own in life.
Materialistic beings.
I am part of this self-loathing culture.
We are our own personal zombies.
We try to change, but in the end, were back, eating the flesh of each other.
Im stuck inside this beautiful wasteland.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem