what is love,
what keeps it alive,
where does it begin,
and why does it start
memories they hurt
and everyone must shed a tear
and though the blade is pretty
for my own sake i must refuse
scars are old my skin is
painfully trying to repair
i could be an angel
but to live i paid a debt
for i would not be sitting here
i would have been dead
and all along your memory
burns in my brain
and i say this painfully
because love is hard to admit
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem