I am alone, tears hit me,
Takes over,
No longer strong or in control,
But a child in the mirror.
The coldness of the photographs,
Of happiness,
Watching them grow from a distance,
Disembodied like a dream.
The memory of love that eminates,
To empty room,
Where I sit and stare,
At my soul that flies alone.
Was it my choice not to be with you,
Is it fit.
Knowing you are truly happy,
With your fake family without me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fake family doesn't make anybody happy... great write... thank you for sharing...