You're gone and I keep torturing myself.
I'm not in the best of health.
I feel weak in the knees.
I'm so numb I can't even feel the breeze.
My brain feels like its dead.
You're leaving is like a rock hitting me in the head.
The blood would eventually go away.
But I wouldn't bet my money that you're coming back someday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice. short and striaght to the point.