Reading in faces of other people, the needs of their souls,
poverty of interior lives illuminating the position of their
beings within the fruition they give to others.
Seeing the poverty of their souls decorating their hearts
with cobwebs and dust, knowing they too have not had an
easy life.
Filled with pain, hurt of rejection and abandonment in the
years they've been alive, sensing the depravity of their
beings, having empathy for them on their lonely paths.
Reaching out, smiling, doing whatever they will allow to
make their loads a little lighter as they travel their way
aimlessly into the future.
Unknowing, never heeding the ones that genuinely wish to
help, trusting only those who should never be trusted, for
they hurt and maim others to save themselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem