Half - formed lines stutter
Crazed, incoherent phrases.
Unstable fragments
Of poetic creations
Are now fading like
Dreams in the heavy, blood red
Sunsets of ennui,
As blazing flowers of truth
Struggle to bloom in
Parched urban wastelands of fear.
This world is unblessed
Love and faith are torn and frayed.
The magic has fled
From the heart of the matter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem