my soul is like
a spiritual muscle
without adversity
it receives no exercize
it is limp and motionless
of little use in my eyes
sometimes it seems
i am tested far
beyond my strength
every inch of my soul
feel streched to the limit
and just when i reach
the point i think i can not
endure any more stife
i cry out not knowing
what you want from me
yes, you know what
it is doing to me
like you know the number
of hairs on my head
you send me the help
i need to go on and
make me stonger in the end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this! your 'Soul' does seem to need more exercise LSP