Trampled, bombarded by the destruction,
His barely alive and barely there
Dripping with feelings of less than satisfaction,
Surviving the fight seems hardly fair.
The now calm cloud of smoke silently darken
He is alone and in disbelief.
Hearing the cry of the wind in the far end
The silence falls and the sun brings relief.
Knowing the truth keeps him caged and quiet,
He feels his anger grow around his heart
Raw passions of repressing his inner riots,
The only smile he finds is to look the to the past.
Life passes through without a second glance.
Memories of the thousand faces bring him to a stance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem