Sometimes it feels like I'm walking on broken glass...
For every step I take makes my pain last...
Knowing you are out there too...
Walking on the same glass hoping it doesn't cut you...
But unfortunately everyone bleeds once in a while...
Even those that face it and live in denial...
To protect a secret and live in their own Hell...
Must be a place of great sadness do tell...
And though broken glass should be discarded or thrown away...
You choose to cover it with a band aid even today...
Not yet realizing in order for wounds to heal...
You need to throw the band aid away and live life for real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem