Standing where smiles are ripped from your face
Mothers and fathers dreaming in a case.
A song once graceful drownded hate,
Cuts on your wrists from doctors too late.
A cry behind her dry eyes,
Finding the truth hiding behind her lies.
They told her it was too late but she proved them wrong,
But maybe, just maybe it did take too long.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem