You held my hand, kept me close
but I daren't close my eyes.
Something about me makes you unhappy;
now you don't call or come around, and
with each passing day that you ignore me,
my heart inside, does cry.
And so here I sit in silence,
never making a sound.
These cold fingers of mine grasp onto nothing,
my empty eyes, no longer open.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem