Moon lit shadows and navy blue skies
Sadly wave their goodbyes.
The lush green hills slowly wilt
As the sword is dropped with blood on the hilt.
The damage has been done
There's no simple answer.
The disease has been spread
To which there is no cure.
The only way to stand
Is by leaning on another
All from the damage
Caused by a father.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem