I wish to write the way I feel
words to bleed on paper the way my soul does
stories suffocating to be listened yet afraid to show
hoping someone will hold the book, take away pages of anguish and despair
still afraid of being teared-apart while getting repaired
this feeling to be read without getting recognized
to be felt without being touched
to be understood without being explained
to be heard without being listened
afraid i'll say so many things that I will forget to speak,
the thought's I think will make the paper weep
desire to makes the reciters eyes go blur
why pain make me feel alive a never ending pleasure
fear of getting expose that no ink will cover me
my pages will be left blank, no coming stories to fulfill me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem