Inevitably taking last sunbeams
so faded, barely alive
Also stale air, which i have to breathe in
even tho i don't have much strength left
I feel irrelevant, like a chamomile flower
stuck in the crack of the wooden bridge
I will never bloom..
Petals only decrease one by one,
going their own way, leaving me forever
(This was written by my best friend, i translated it to english, she unfortunately don't have account for this website, i thought i should share it with you because its a really beautiful poem)
