I am what I hate,
broken and weak.
With unspoken words,
shattered and meek.
Duellessly twisted,
soaking in hand.
Do not own a mirror,
my face I can't stand.
My words lay but jumbled,
unhumbled in mind.
Confusingly stumbled,
this path that I seek.
I am what I hate,
broken and weak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem