It fractures at even the lightest touch,
My aspirations cast in crystal glass;
Precious pieces turned to razors,
Delicate dreams not built to last.
Once, my ideals were bulletproof,
There was never a shred of doubt;
No matter the force, against my faith,
Words never would wear me out.
Yet, now with every breath I take,
What once was set in stone,
Is corroded away, little by little,
And I am taught I should atone;
Is what I stand for really so wrong?
Is it true I get what I deserve?
Could it really be so that I am condemned,
By the justice that I swore to serve?
I sought only to do what was needed,
And to aid by protecting the weak,
I swore I would give it my everything,
And swore it when times were most bleak.
Yet, now I am faced with this crisis;
Am I now the evil I fought?
I was to be it's hand and it's voice,
Yet forsook the justice I sought.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem