Marking periods of grief set in pages of life with
black and blue memories, leaving their marks on our
minds and hearts.
Surrounding us in halos of angels, sitting by our
sides as we crawl through our caverns of lost sight
for the time being.
Saturated in tears felt through the years, we attempt
to pick up the pieces on lonely days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem