Imprisoned by injured pride,
I silently bleed inside.
My dreams laid waste,
My pains drown me to my waist.
Fighting all the while alone,
Finding it difficult to reach home.
I look around to share my worry,
But every one seem in a hurry.
I realise albeit a shade late,
That the bulk of men close their gate,
The gate to their sympathetic heart,
And in it's place, a broken part.
So I know in life, I am on my own,
To confront all my pains alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem