How sad and utterly ironic,
that words confided in deep trust;
are twisted to be vile and sick,
reviled with venom and disgust.
How twisted can the truth be?
with vengeance as its veil;
Must silence be the only key,
for denial to flounder, fail?
How very wrong and so unjust,
that a heartfelt fervent plea;
is abused to sow and feed mistrust,
on which we disagree.
But so it is, and it is fate,
that truth must simply lie in wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem