My voice echoes silently,
A remnant of things to pass.
My shell, my skin,
As fragile as glass.
The hammer is flung,
Into my life.
Forever lasting,
The symbol of strife.
So heed my call,
And leave me be.
For there is a beast,
That you should hope not to see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem