Mystery, thy name is life
Surrounding me in its camouflage
Of miseries and happiness
It needs me to understand the meaning
Of not being perfect
Of not being the absolute
Being anything subtle and pure
And all the mundane deeds
That I need for the kill
And all the running races
That leave me with no will
Life's mysterious
And its still not solved
When what you know
Will do you no good
Its time to question Why?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem