The violence of poverty,
Shatters the dreams of life,
A victim begging for mercy,
Behind closed doors.
In the name of love,
In desperation they cry,
And pray to an invisible god,
Begging for mercy,
Behind closed doors.
But it is cold outside,
Too cold to tell the tale,
Cold hearts and minds,
Torturing the innocent,
Behind closed doors.
Where is the sun?
I need to feel its heat on my face,
Where have the happy days gone?
What has become of my innocence?
Snatched away by thieves, liars,
And smooth criminals,
Living the facade and falsehood,
Behind closed doors.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gun fires, blood on hands,
A mind with no soul,
Like a rotten apple,
Quick to deceive with its appearance,
Seeming ripe, but maggots exposed,
Behind closed doors.
That silence of death,
The screaming stopped,
Emotion of numbness,
No escape route from the pain,
Toy soldiers drowning in the rain,
No ray of light to offer hope,
Or to guide the way in the dark.
But doors can open,
Truth can be told,
And there can be a rainbow,
Offering hope for freedom,
After the lashing storm,
That drowned those,
Of a harsh psychology;
Justice to be served,
Their lies not worth your pain,
Behind closed doors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A dark picture ending on a bright note. Beautiful, beautiful.