paintings on the wall
Singing songs of unclear melodies
Those within the painting, love and hate
Maybe a dark but light for perfection
All is sick, we all is sick
Sick with dis-ease
Beauth, the only cure
Outside, inside, otherside beauty
But this is not times we spend
Holding hands, closer in each arms
But this is not seasons we shared
Under moons light, dancing, just togerther
It is when we share anger, hate, dislike
A season to be faustrated, deject, insult
Yet knowing we belond to each other
And our salvation lies in our very own self
So let paint our souls
Write poems with our lives
Sing songs with ourbeating heart
Do something, anything to brind the beauty
Inside, outside otherside lies the beauty
A cure for this dis-ease
Unstable by the wall
And sing clear songs to those who watch us
Make no shadow hid you
Make no sounds to us who unshamedly show
As in the light and dark of ourselves
So all may see and learn
Just come out, be you
Shout with all poetry you can write
A life, smile and dance to show beauty
So it ever done, and ever known to all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem