Like you, I needed space,
Like you, I needed time;
You were always in my face,
It was kind of like a crime.
Your fury and your wrath,
Burned me, like a fire;
Now I'm on a different path,
Away from all your ire.
Away from obscene yells,
Away from bitter screams;
Like unpleasant smells,
Like frayed and tattered seams.
It cumbled all before us,
And there's nothing more to hold;
We'll no longer make a fuss,
For there's nothing left to mold.
I'll bury it with all the rest,
Under a mountain of silence;
We couldn't follow its stern test,
We couldn't amend the violence.
Let it smolder under wraps,
Let it die without a sound;
Let's play the final taps,
and look for solid ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem