Leaves rustling, touching live wires, sparking traces
of tears inside.
Unalive, tantamount to betrayal, forgetting who you
are, lying face down, appearing to be starving.
Life-long dreams at least seem to becoming true, yet
deep sadness lies within.
Depressing the very inner depths, a soul appears to
be crying.
Can nothing end this horrible feeling of self-
destruction being felt inside?
Must living continue with this terrible hole waiting
to be fulfilled?
Can it be let go and come alive or must it be given
in to?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem