The scars, made jagged by regret
Are never to heal for these poor souls
When a twisted branch on the tree of life cuts them
Leaving a forever echo where words only buzz and hiss
They are true warriors in perpetual battle with the void
One wanders a wasteland while another polishes her armor
Twins sharing a nightmare alone, kindred watchers of the clock
Marking time every day, every hour, every second.
No matter what we do face in life, let us always give praises to the Creator Almighty. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your note has been very helpful in understanding this poem. You have captured the pathos of the situation so strikingly that it keeps haunting the reader. Do you think we can place this poem in the modern genre? (10)