My misery is a particle,
Sections written as an article,
How to escape the pain I face,
My choices become too radical,
Emotional levels elevated too high,
Piece this puzzle, and then wonder why,
The clues are leaving much stranger reasons,
No reactions in action, thus I begin to cry,
Tears dry, shape this heart that is torn,
Washed, rinsed, dried; second time to be worn,
It’s hung outside with clouds nearby,
The storm preparing its precipitate form,
Blocking out my energy, with the loss of the sun,
Heart’s patiently waiting for this storm to be gone,
Seconds to minutes to hours to days,
Never realizing this abyss has become months,
Now that this summer seasons over,
I feel the cold from head to shoulder,
My heart has froze in layers of snow,
For my engine died; you've seized my motor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When did you first write this poem? According to the summit date, summer hadn't begun yet. T.