The dolls sit by themselves
On the dusty floors and tables
Wishing that they could have more
Something more than this.
They scream silent whispers to each other.
Mourning...
Wailing...
Screeching...
But no sound moves the air,
That they so wish to inhale.
The desire to live
Fills them and they pierce the darkness
With their soundless songs
Screamed out with fear and loss.
And as quiet tears clean their dusty glass faces,
They stay forever, unheard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Strange but interesting concept - you're a very talented writer. Best, Jerry