A writer shall I be?
It’s a talent I posses in me
They say it's a gift have been given to me
But what a gift is that when it's my curse I'm trying to grieve to leave?
What I write is what I feel and all that I feel is the sorrow of the life I never wished it to be
And just when I start to cope I stop to write and I don't feel these emotions that I most fear to be right
But all I see in their accusing eyes is a comfort of me being a life
Cause these words are in my thoughts screaming out loud in the silent of the crowd that breaks with only one shout
So can you help me unravel my latest and deepest doubt?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really must listen to your inner self