The past is a gone memory, the present is bleak, so far and so close, with no power to seek for the light that has eluded grasp, these moments are the moments where the question of man arises and we must choose between what is right and what we desire, for the phrase time heals all wounds is a misleading term that offers nothing but confusion to those who know not what it means, memory is our key, yet not every memory is meant to be unlocked, at times it is better to let go then to pursue a hopeles answer, and in this we find that we have wasted our lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem