Time has finally eased its raw power
but there are damages;
permanent fingerprints on the pages of my past
left by the hands that molded my history.
A gaping chasm of unresolved pain
forced me to move on, choose life;
its path would bring healing, lead me
further away, yet closer to my own truth.
Memories linger, the ghosts still haunt,
tattered remnants remain that I hold onto
from the gripping soul of a child; but it's this life
with all the baggage that makes me write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem