I sit in my closet
rapped up in a ball,
going through old letters
containing so many secrets,
reading old notes
that were so close to being taken up by teachers,
looking through pictures
that were left to be forgotten,
trying to forget the memories
that still haunt me in my sleep,
a familiar face reminds me of so much,
I had her buried in my mind
before the dirt even covered her casket,
I should have gone too,
I was supposed to be with her
when she died,
I come across this note,
her named signed at the bottom,
oh, the memories we had,
still overcome by the last one,
she shouldn't have been lying on that gurney,
covered with all those machines,
they were supposed to save her,
instead I killed her
in my mind,
a cold chill ran down my spine,
I had the feeling of being watched,
and when I turned,
the image of that familiar face...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem