I sit alone, no one to talk to.
Am I dead? I feel dead.
It's something that everyone dreads.
I can't be dead, I bleed everynight.
And everyday I continue to fight.
When I look out the window of this empty home,
I feel the water falling is from my own soul.
I know I can't escape this torture I go through,
Why do you put me through this?
Why am I so alone?
And why have I got noone to talk to?
I feel so alone,
So, I sit alone, noone to talk to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very sad and sorrow-full write that bares sore emotions, the deep insight goes all to be sincerely profound either way, nice one Emily, The_African_Son