Sometimes I sit and think
I ponder, and wonder
it makes no sense to me
how can a heart of gold at first
turn out to be a hole of nothing in his chest.
Maybe something in my face,
or the sound of my voice,
I bring out the anger in him.
An anger that brings no sorrow to him
sorrow that is channeled only to me
The things he says to me, have no impact on him
the words penetrate me,
and turn to scars forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.