these are the sharp nails
that we hammer
upon our heads
we have not spent most
evenings for sound sleep
these are the hammers that
we keep on holding with both hands
the bombs that we keep in our
hearts
that we detonate when we can
no longer tolerate
these are the thousand deaths that
we have experienced
because we love cowardice more
that courage
these are the loves that we let go
because we never learned to stand on our own
these are the glasses of poison that we drink
on most decisions that we make
because we are more afraid
to be what we really are....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem