My life lay still and stagnant,
searching for the place called home,
plagued by a boy's thoughts,
relentless, fading out his innocence and ignorance.
He dreamt of a wonderful life once,
the joke's on him, it was all a lie.
Trauma cradled in his hands,
begging for honesty and consequences.
It felt one small step away,
but hope or despair
lay a giant leap beyond.
Indecisively, one step at a time,
the road stretches long,
dreams half-dead,
thoughts spinning like a cracked kaleidoscope,
Vibrant, yet broken.
The thinking came first,
the coping came after,
then thinking, came again and again.
Stop. listen,
to the silence that deafens you,
find what you need
in the voices you mention,
ask, and you'll receive,
answers carved from the weight
of questions you dared to hold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem