Sitting quietly at a table in a corner bar
With his pride tarnished and a heart broken,
His mind seems to be gone away very far
But he is ready to release his words unspoken...
Covered by cigarette smokes in the air,
While a piano is being played in the background,
He lifts up his face full of tears...
Starting to write words without sounds...
He asks for a soft drink to the barmaid,
And concentrated writing a new poem
He realizes that for his wound, there's no band-aid
Since his life has taken a new form...
Suddenly, a flower girl stops by
Asking him to buy some flower
He felt like a bird that can no longer fly
One with broken wings and no power...
That bird was really me, indeed!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.