so many things need to be written
every morning
you know all about them
and i do not have to even tell you
that all these are more
about sorrow
do i have to ask you
what happens to me when i do not write them?
i am trying to fathom your silence
we have been there
with all our fears
i do not have to tell you more
and if i were to tell you about all these
must i tell you
what shall happen about us?
the future is mean
the skies are cloudy
dark with the the warning of rain
shall i tell more about us?
forgive me
for i am tired
fed up but life's empty promises
hungry for more
failures
that serve as food
in our
everyday
table.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem