Feeling bad for what i have created,
and yet no guilt overcomes me.
Is it the truth i spill when i speak these words?
Or is it my own truth that i have subsided?
To lie or to think a lie is normality for us,
And the truth is the subject we don't want to hear.
Everything should be so easy, and yet we make it so hard.
To love your own is to love the little,
and to combine it as one.
Let live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem Kathryn! Always nice to see another Michigander here! Sincerely, Mary