The sun shatters the window pane
They say it is the heat from the rays of the sun
Hey! admit to it, it is broken
The flower blossomed and before it could make me smile, it withers
Its rustle in my hands feels like bare earth
They say it is the global warming, that it is that time of the year
Yet it leaves me broken
The plight of motherhood she faces alone
Yet she hears them say she is weak
A man does the same, they say he is strong
Ain't we all broken?
The child has no one, I told her she is broken
She said she has always had it broken and wouldn't know if she wants it fixed.
Who will tell her she is broken?
The moon is the second choice I have to lite my path
Coming second I ask her if that gets her broken.
My hands unstable as I scribe whether it is wrong to write about all that is broken
My deepest fear gets the most of me If I do not admit to being broken
Don't we all have our reasons for being broken?
Too many shadows in my room and corners in my mind
The silence becoming so deafening
The noise brings the peace ever since it all got broken.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem