There's a volcano of feelings
Turning and tossing deep within me
Yet remain invisible before eyes
I remain like an open book
Allowing anybody to read freely.
Or rather waiting in anticipation to be read.
There's a whole lot of things about me
That needs a beautiful reading
But what I see happening
Is the torn pages of my book flying around
Asking to be taken care of.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem