The burnt out kid
the silent unspoken thoughts
the tired eyes, listless
the soul, well weathered
daily duties done
conversations held
and progress none
still, still and silent
a withering flame
flickers alone
the fuel be done
the night be long
tomorrow shall come
the burnt out kid
will burn again
ashes to the winds
and a finger raised
to all future days
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem