My eyes closed, and I am still, except for the beating of my heart..
But what is a heart when it's made of stone, cold and bleeding..
What is a heart when its last warmth and feeling is receding..
My ears are open, and I am still, waiting for the right moment..
But it takes time to find the right word to start..
But what is the right word when it's measured, weighed and comes from a frozen heart..
My mouth begins to open, for I try to speak, meaningful words..
There are just a few, small but come on strong..
For they help to somehow correct all I've done wrong..
'I'm sorry' from the depths of my stone-cold-frozen and bleeding heart...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem