Fear is the bell that you hear ringing,
At the end of a love; a day; a world;
Good things go bad, on a regular basis-
And that ringing bell's the last thing you heard.
Numbness ensues, and you welcome its coming;
When something's removed, the nerves will scream,
For a day or a life, their world's gone missing-
And there's eons to sit and think, what it means..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem