Broken and bruised, unseen scars for proof.
Set off the trigger, and the proof is seen.
Damaged and ruined, yet a living piece under one roof.
All is well is their outside scene.
In need of heal, the scream in me.
No more room for the pain,
And my best I want to be.
Bless me with a liberty from these chains.
Living the dream, the wounds began to heal.
With scars trailing behind, begging for a forget not.
Their presence I see, the memory I feel.
With the feeling, a lesson is brought.
With lessons come wisdom.
And wisdom, the preserver of life.
Destructive in surplus, changing its seeker.
Dissimilar I am now, but not seeking strife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem