This is the end of the road,
The journey of tears end,
So many gallops and potholes,
Left unfilled forgetting tomorrow,
That I may still trek the path home.
With her i departed,
At that delicate of the time,
Now, like a leper I'm deserted,
Need a healer to heal my wounds,
And lift me out of this ruins,
I chase through shadows,
Even when she sat next to me,
I loved the heart out of reach,
Even when she torched,
I thought of holy ghost that exist not.
This is the end of the road,
Now i know my right was wrong,
I bleed profusely with shame,
Where do i even belong?
I never know, but i own the blames
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
as Shakespeare wrote The love that follows us sometimes is our trouble, which we still thank as love - Macbeth, Act I, Scene VI