I am supplemented in the eyes of others,
Modernity has no meaning within estranged youth;
I am exiled from my birth, I am forced upon the taste of dust
And I rely on my shaking weight for approval;
Oh the sick feeling of white spirit,
It's transparency is deceiving— at least I'm released;
Nothing is inevitable unless the mind chooses so
And I will grapple unto this thought until death;
Ah death! The overused prophecy and stretched reason
Of pain— the truth can't be held in our hands;
Masks wrinkle as does the water in my eyes,
Contemplations await their purpose of a lifetime;
Life is as frivolous as death
They are but the same
— Everything is eternal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem