When I am lonely, I will write.
Some things written out of spite.
The dust has settled in my bones.
Aching to be set in stone.
To always leave me with this feeling.
Where no other option seems appealing.
Sometimes I wonder how I do without, people in a world of doubt.
Don't trust me for I lie, secrets I hold are not told through my eyes.
I write and write, still I ache.
This pain I feel is no mistake.
It's pain from the silence of all these years.
All the times I held back my tears.
I've lied to you, and you to me.
Just to make us seem happy.
In time I will forget, what it is like to regret.
Change has taken things from me, now I am not what you see.
Yes, things have changed and so have I.
Nothing can save us from these lies.
We pretend all is good.
But if you take a look under the hood.
Things are backed up and leaking.
With lots of broken parts and squeaking.
Now with these words I do cry, not with body, soul, or eyes.
I feel with these words, it may seem absurd.
This is my only way, to settle some of my dismay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem