LIKE barren land filled with
rocks and dirt, she takes her
sword, and adds one more cut,
LIKE a baby bird learning to fly,
she lands on the ground, and starts
to cry.
LIKE the wounds of a beatiful saint, she
holds the needle, then finds a vein,
again, again, and again, .......
FOR THE POETS OUT THERE, THIS POEM IS REAL LIFE, MY SISTER AT THE AGE OF 14, DECIDED TO SHOOT UP, AND SHE WAS GOOD AT IT, THE GOOD NEWS IS SHES BEEN CLEAN FOR ALMOST TEN YEARS...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a very good write, you describe the plight of your sister with such affection, not making her actions into something dirty, nor glamorous...glad to hear she is doing well, I pray the future is kind to her. Amanda