In this dark room, I try to sleep…
This foolish heart of mine, why does it weep?
Those memories of her, why don’t they fade?
What were the mistakes, I should never have made?
Her pretty face , makes my heart skip a beat..
Too stubborn to accept, it’s defeat..
Why does it fret, why does it cry?
That wicked fate of mine, why cant it defy?
I turn on the light.
Wondering, now that she is gone,
For whom should I write?
To put myself to rest, a pen is all I need.
On this very page, with words I shall bleed..
Forcing a smile on my face,
I try to put the past behind,
Picking a pen from a case,
I start writing out my mind.
I write of love, I write of hate.
I write of destiny and fate.
I write of happiness, I write of pain.
I write all this in disdain..
Now that it’s almost dawn
I slowly turn off the light.
Wondering, now that she is gone.
Should I ever really write?
As the Sun begins to rise
I collapse on the bed…
Finally, I close my eyes..
To death, I have bled…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem