Right in the palm of my empty hands.
Pass the chance of make to break.
Hope is whispers on fading winds.
Climb over correct to achieve mistake.
Cut off an arm to save a hand.
Wasted days from sleep to wake.
The life of a memory recorded in sand..
Short changed in life partnered with foresake
Shadows of the past at present demand.
Looking back then forward both directions a mistake.
Future is a bright light hard to comprehend.
Past touches present truth is never fake.
My flame is fading from the middle of both ends.
Past and future are only seperated by the present break.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem