I turn away, and turning, reach an end
Avert my gaze and stumble to deny
The woken horror of a wayward friend
Unbent, yet broken, no longer to pretend
Reluctant, blurt a lurching last goodbye
I turn away, and turning, reach an end
And proud, yet ruined, you lightly condescend
to grace me with your scornful eyes
The woken horror of a wayward friend
Regret clenched tight in freedom's dividend
I scatter wide the fragments of your lies
I turn away, and turning, reach an end
A moments sorrow later, you descend
Yet more into the glut that justifies
The woken horror of a wayward friend
And through my patchwork wanderings, slow to mend
To stitch the wounds by unstitching the ties
I turn away, and turning, reach an end
The woken horror of a wayward friend
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem