Oh how I love my imagination
it is part of all my creations
it can be a blessing or a damnation
full of emotion and exaggeration
my tears begin to build
what I see is not my will
what once created dreams of hope
now leaves me devastated and broke
I cry in the early morning hours
only seeing weeds surrounding my flowers
I wave my magic wand again
to make my imagination my friend
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem