My heart is weary, my strength is gone
And fluid does collect in my lungs.
My zest is zapped, it's hard to go on,
It's tiring climbing life's ladder of rungs.
My breaths are short, I struggle to breathe.
My lungs are full and I am drowning
And gurgling garlands do my lungs wreathe.
Discomfort and pain - a chest aching.
My brow fevered, pale is my pallor.
I take pills to strengthen my heart's beat
And pills to make me excrete water.
I am weary and concede defeat.
And yet hope which lives deep inside me
Says, I am your true friend, trust in me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem