Eyes swollen from all the crying
sitting in a chair, that's nailed to the floor.
staring out at barron wastelands
from the only window that keeps him company.
being held in his attic
like something of no use.
thinking of why his parents put him here.
to think thru all hes done wrong
to the family name.
covered in dust,
thrown away.
given the chance to end it all.
holding a hand gun in his trembling hands.
wondering what led him into such turmoil.
he slowly moves the gun to his head
counting out the seconds
thinking of only one person.
his sister, the only one who will miss him
no one to stop him from doing this
the cold metal of the barrel
feels at place against his temple.
he slowly squeezes the trigger
ever so slightly.
the rush of danger fills his body
but he ignores it.
Dreaming of all the moments he will miss
of his little sister growing up without a brother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That was awful. I mean, it was an amazing poem, but, I just feel so awful about what happened in it. That's true sadness. I hope you don't feel the same way.