Sitting in my favorite park, enjoying the peace and quiet.
Thinking of the cancer within, wondering why it had to be.
Fighting the urge to turn away and die, I stay and will
suffer through it as always.
A vast wasteland within, fearfully staying on this side of
death, not wanting to, but somehow I must.
Seeing the immense darkness standing before me, I hide
inside waiting to let go.
There seem to be no shortcuts along life's paths, so I
trip and stumble my way through, hoping for the best.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem