Like a tree that sits...
To be observed and taken for granted.
I am here.
Not to intellectualize my emotions.
But to feel them as experienced.
Not to convince!
But to know that they exist.
Whether you see them exposed bared.
Or not!
Or whether I keep them within.
They do not stop.
I live to feel every one of them!
And changing my outer appearance...
Does not excuse the fact,
They are intact.
To be shown.
Beneath an exterior...
One soul only at a time condones.
And inside me this is known.
Like a tree that sits,
Rooted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem