Have my own bitterness warped my own vision
I cringed at my own reflection
Time has stolen what is left of my childish wonder and innocence
We cannot go back to how things were, to amend the written chapters of sadness arrival
Unable to forget even the trival, we walked still facing the wounds and scars as rival
In this era of delusion, there to challenge our happiness
Can we meet with an intervention, as real as the pain jostled on the thorns of a flower
To show us the past shouldn't matter
In the way of embracing a happiness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good poem but myelf i think sometimes the past matters more than the moment you are in at one time.