I feel like I'm dying and no longer existent
I stare at the same faces
And I can't wait until they are distant.
I wish to fly away, to be set free
Whatever that meant
Good God, help me.
Bu you do not exist, so my idols
Are earthlings
I bow to musicians, poets and writers
And a few material things.
But my real problem lies somewhere else.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem