How can You fight if You can't see the light,
Manage to get back from rubble?
There's nothing to go back to, nothing worth a fight,
So why do we all call it - a trouble?
Nothing to gain anymore and nothing to lose.
Pain of existence or freedom of choice?
Testament of good will I'm here to ignore.
I realize - unfulfillment is a last straw.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem