Longing for a return of my foreign voice,
To gather the many recollections for a choice.
The figments march toward a space I abide,
But the sorrows are slithering inward to my side.
Fill me with poisonous streams
Till my body overflows and splits the seams.
Let the blood wash out all the rues
Till all my skin emits different hues.
Let it twist me, fold me, invert me
Till my restraints let me be free.
Lead me to a raptured being;
I'm not the one that I've been seeing.
Give me back my foreign voice,
So that I can make the choice.
