I am cold… or perhaps warm.
I can no longer acknowledge,
My bodily functions
My mind is somewhere else
In a tangled reality of sorts
I might be in pain
But the transmitters
Seem blocked and useless
As useless as I seem to be…
As a functioning human
What defines humanity?
Just my face? Just my form?
As my mind barely resembles
What is suggested by the expectations
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem