Skipping and stumbling through life's joys and sorrows,
hoping to reach some compromise for balance.
Always standing on street corners of my mind, harassing
self into resignation and subdued silence.
Never talking of the labyrinths inside, afraid of letting
anyone else know who I am.
Place of recognition which no one can ever see or know,
lies in the center of my being, hidden.
If anyone cared enough to find the person I truly am
within, they'd find me somewhere on the thousands of pages
already written, sitting between the lines, silently
awaiting their recognition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem