I shuffle them as a therapy
I do not deal them as a meditation
It makes me forget all the things
For which do I have to be patient
Ace to king, ace to king
King to ace, king to ace
It's not really that I don't remember a thing
It's those things that I don't want to face
I false cut, and I riffle
Till feelings are lost
Till all that I need is that needle
With a very strange vaccine - that voice
And when I am blinded again
Remind me to breathe and start over
I'm hovering over and over
Above some mad half hearted man
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem