Life that you lived on the outside
It was cleaner than the shades of white
Your dealings with people you never knew
Were exemplary and impeccable to say the least
Sincerity, it was nothing less than highest of priests
When it came to your personal life
You diverted far away from the light
Waiting at home was your battered wife
Your children consoling her pain for you
Innocence lost, fear engraved, shattered souls
Their tiny fragile hearts were forever scared
Dreams you had they must have been fulfilled
But you live in a dungeon so hollow and dark
Only you can see clearly there
All we see is eerie darkness
Don't you ever mention it again
That those dreams were meant for us
You did it all but only for yourself
Abandoning us in the middle of nowhere
Blaming us for whatever went wrong
I can take the blame but for the obvious
I could not have ever assaulted your wife
At a tender age of four or five!
Trying to make sense of it all
Trying to make sense of life
Nick Kler
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem