The salty drops make the pages moist
Tears leak page through page
Smudging the ink printed words
For the cotton is my only friend
Craddling me ever so gently
Hiding me from the harsh outside world
Why do I not understand
For I am alone in this dark room
Called my own
Pacing the lines over and over again
Imprinting the words in my head
For the words are a lie
A lie even more
For he can not come to my face and say it
For he can not come to my face
And lie
He tells a paper to do his dirty job for him
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem