Through all the anger and the pain,
And though, nameless they remain,
There's no way to explain,
All the strain, on my brain.
My body is a frame,
Inside, nothing now remains,
My whole life, it seems, has been drained,
And now I truly am insane.
From my childhood, this piece of me,
Is nowhere near; it's history.
Attacked, though not intentionally.
To find happiness is a rarity…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poet is talking about his personal life.