She's cried herself to sleep again
Her own December rain
Her unsure self upon her face
The evidence of pain
A subtle aching glow
She hides; she'll never show
A silent little angel
You'll try but never know.
A heart so soft and torn
Her skin she's never worn
She's hidden it away
It's battered, bruised and lorn
She's brave yet sad and true
Her soul afraid of you
It's filled with sorrow and with tears
Only has herself to prove
The ugly markings on her arms
The cuts and lashes on her palms
A sentimental sad reminder
Of all the times she's done her harm
Her face is bleak and stained
Its Deçember and she's rained
Her sun will come and shine real bright,
Soon she'll be free and she'll take flight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem with a good choice of diction. I loved this poem. Isaac +++10