Love.....
A painful cut to the soul that bleeds pools of hope.
And hope is a sticky liquid in which we get mired.
Swim in it too long and you will find yourself in the deep-end with no ladder out.
How long can you tread?
How long can you keep your head above before you get too tired and succumb to the death?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem