i am all over
strewn like hay
wicked wind's work
I did try to stay
I exploded
in one gust
its my fault
that I did trust
that rope
of faith
was just
so frail
it snapped
to bits
in just
one gale
nothing else
is left of me
blown to smithereens
end was unseen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem