It was me in my darkest night, A shadowed soul, bereft of light.I turned within, and there I found, My sufferings had spun me round.
Played by pain, deceived by grief, A silent thief beyond belief.And then I saw, with aching mind, The world was cruel, and I was kind.
Their harshness cut, their coldness stung, Yet from my heart, compassion sprung.Though wounded deep, I still remain, A gentle soul through all the pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem