She stands as a statue.
With a stone exterior,
But flowers on the inside.
The stone protects the flowers.
But the flowers will rot
and leave just the stone.
Cold and hard and unforgiving.
Then the stone will crumble
and the statue will be no more.
I am a statue
and I am crumbling
from the inside out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very deep, as usual a great read, keep it up!