Nothing to focus on,
except the dull ache
growing in your bones
so everything itches
You feel like dying
or cutting yourself
and beating your breast,
and fighting just to lose,
to have the kind of pain
you can focus on,
something to know
besides the loneliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The power of the mind has the control we all fear.... it has the strength to take us away or make us stay here... take care... for here you will find a friend.... Alison