Round and round this circle of merry go round'
Burn and burn to ashes of self made desolation
Scratching the melancholy buried under thy ground
Closed thy hand filled with exasperation
When the remedy become thy poison
When there leaves no hope of restoration
Scream and scream to find thy cloisonné
Buried deep inside the depths of thy hesitation
Burn and burn for thee knew of the phoenix's conundrum
With a little darkness, comes a little aspiration
Quit not before the inevitable, thy knew not thy persistence
For every pandemonium leads to a resolution
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem