i'm fed up with my thoughts,
i'm sick of people living their lives
not being aware.
i miss the moonlight
in childhood's hour.
phantoms of the past staring at me
from the TV tower;
they're coming.
my ghost friends,
will you die for me?
whispers are no longer heard;
no words are to be said.
the stars don't belong to us.
and i'm still sinking
in the twister of my thoughts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem