@newgirldark
Now everything is Al, that's the way things seem to fly.
Few still stop to read a heart, few can tell true words apart.
Yet I feel no need to hide, my conscience rests deep inside. If the world loves what's not mine, I'll keep writing every line.
My words may fade and pass on by, but at least they're mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem