So far escaped from reality,
It is often I go astray
To a place pain does not exist
Except in it's physical form.
It is not until the stars fall down,
Not until the rainbow disappears,
That I realize the pain is in me,
And it is pain that hurts regardless.
No words can fix this kind of pain,
Only time can heal the wounds inside,
However, healed wounds still have their scars,
And those scars are a memory.
Whatever the future holds, my love,
Just remember: What is done, is done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem