I hear the screams now,
Before, the sound of the explosion
Deafened me.
Now, the last piercing sound
Of lives being torn from bodies
Reverberates in my ears.
I run, and run,
There is nothing left!
There is nothing left for me
Except to run...
You? Who are you?
How easily I could hate you
For standing by
While my world burns!
How easily I could loathe you
For photographing
My broken universe!
But you, you have done a service
To those who have never known pain; terror.
Show my shattered life
To the carefree world,
Remind them the power
They could have if they wanted to mend
The burning, the bleeding, the broken
Remind them the power they could have
If they wanted to mend the broken,
The power they could have
If they wanted to save the (dying world)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem