We crawl through each day
In hopes tomorrow is not the same
We try to understand how we have faltered
And why we are punished and blamed
Beaten like a piece of dough
Hardening with the air
Styled with a knife
And turning to powder somewhere
Wilting like a flower
At the end of spring
Left in a flooded vase
Barren and withering
Crushed like a rock
And turned into stone
The last piece of furniture
In a moved out home
A weed in the grass
That is frowned upon
A prayer for help
That does not respond
A summer rain
Which floods the ground
A grasp for love
That cannot be found
Tossed aside like a plastic can
Left to sauté in the sun
We are lost in hope
And yet have none
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem