NAPATSORN TREESAP

The dimness of the moonlight above the dreadful direction
The perfection of the wind of death warned my wounded body
All in disguise, all out of sight—and all like knights 
Horribly affecting to be the unimaginable cloudy vision  

Taking a path to the forest of the nightmare
The vultures were flying and crying, “it’s despair
Oh, that Lost Soul—
You just take your life to the depth of despair”

The mist of the frostiness embraced my breakable soul
The world filled with daylight had vanished
The greenish hill turned into the hill of grief 
Where everything became a seed of trauma

Barefoot on the path filled with sword grass
Attempting to go through a sensational suffering
Calling for help but it turned into silence 
Expecting to see some flowers but it turned into poison hemlock instead 

Barely alive but the voice of the void still saying—
Still echoing in my ears, “she’s lucky—
Luckily enough to claim all the things that she succeeded 
She’s hard-hearted, I know her”

The moonlight reflected the curiosity upon my face
Whether I would die before going to the gate and the fences
When the voice and the doubtful thoughts—
Tattooed deeply in my head

As if they were something that’s empty—
Desiring to fill their own needs 
Taking and leaving when they’re ready
Left me in the void with the hourglass

Struggling to walk to the gate and seeing those beautiful faces
Greetings as if nothing had happened
And they’re all saying “You’re so lucky” 
Without noticing the bloodstain on my face

© 2022 Napatsorn Treesap