I feel the way cement looks after 10 years.
Worn down to the point that i need to renew myself.
These salt filled tears stain my cheeks like raindrops do on cement.
Cold and grey.
Like my heart and eyes.
I'm just a crack in the cement, waiting to be filled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We use to play DON'T STEP ON THE CRACKS while walking.