someone - should he be called a friend? -
losing his center, the core of his being
tossed from it by the current of events and those producing them,
diverging further and further
into the recesses of a land unknown,
a world confused
passively allowing himself to be used and changed
into someone else
some other being with a different core,
residing in a converted center
until now it is getting harder and harder
to tell the original from the fake version,
truth from delusion,
being from pretending
someone with his colours all in the wrong places
foggy priorities twisted
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem