She tries to love,
to hold her own.
She tries to feel
the love so long gone
She tries to tell
you that its ok
She never
gets the words right
She treis but
lets you die
Its not all
her fault
its more your own
but this is what makes it life
Its all but mind
And matter
Nothing more
then saying ' I love you'
Cloudy days
rolloing despreatly
holding the suns
face out of the light
As she tries to say
That She is ever Rong
But once again
life rolls in taking you with
but let it come
and let it all go
Its not her fault
all but your own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem because it more closely defines what a poem is supposed to be. I could read poems like this all day. GW62