In the still of the night a sound is made
And all the colors seem to fade
A scream, a shot, a body falling
A voice, a dream, someone calling
‘I’m sorry but your husband’s dead.’
The phone falls to the ground
‘Miss? Miss? ’
But not a sound
She promises to never love
Losing faith in God above
‘Why couldn’t it have been me?
Then he could have been free.’
She wished to die
Covering it up with a lie
‘I’m fine.’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem