Aren't we all
in the bottoms of our hearts
still waiting to fall
Aren't on our lips continously the songs
of rebellion youth and anarchistic love
-still moist after this long
And while our morals were sky high
and our wrists poetically bleeding
-was it just another death wish
to try to save the world?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem