It may not be a misery to sing at all,
To sing life's imperfect song,
For if us mortals love or sing,
It is what keeps us from our perfect dream
Life's imperfect song goes on day by day,
But our grief may be set best that way,
As if a music box lost its key,
That's is my life long song of Misery
Misery leaves you like a broken frame,
Guilt and sorrow swallows the pain,
You run from it, but knowing that you can't hide,
Until, the day you run insane
As time passes, I watch you grow,
Still refusing to sing of tomorrow,
Your life long song, now complete,
My child don't wish, go to sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem