By neon lights, my shadow walks,
Through silent streets, where no one talks.
A name unknown, a face unseen,
Yet I dare to chase a dream.
Silver whispers, fleeting touch,
Men come and go—I don't say much.
But deep inside, my heart still yearns,
For walls of love my hands will earn.
I stand in heels, I wear a smile,
A painted mask, a practiced style.
Yet every coin, each folded note,
Writes a line in dreams I wrote.
A house of mine, a door to close,
A place where peace and quiet flows.
No knocks of strangers, no borrowed nights,
Just sunlit mornings, love, and rights.
So judge me not by what I do,
But by the storms that I push through.
For every soul has battles won,
And mine is fought till dreams are done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem