Sometimes I cry,
Occasionally, in the quite
Darkness of the night,
It makes me a human again,
A weird sense of life and pain,
I like the warmth of my tears,
The time I know my fears,
Which runs across my face,
The laboured, deep pace,
Monotonous pattern of my breath,
Wasted away on a death,
I like the burning in my eyes,
A tedious mind that tries,
To delightfully express,
All that it had to suppress.
Sometimes I cry,
Just because I can't smile anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem