I live in a world of,
Half empty people,
With broken,
Glass jars,
Crashed against tile floors,
Lost amongst the radiant sunset,
I sit awaiting the day,
When I am free.
Trapped in this dark room,
Trapped, within an empty space,
That does not,
And can not exist.
Why is it so difficult,
For me to bear this...
Burden.
In my half empty world,
Full of broken glass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem