As i walked beneath a huge oak tree,
Its shadow a mere shade,
I am a fake.
I am faked.
I am cast into a stone.
I am made from clay
Memories of mine.
Dance on every single wall.
Not broken down inside my mind.
What is left from my damaged past.
Faints to grey.
As i sat between the fallen leaves,
I know I fell.
I am still falling.
I hear the birds.
I see the butterflies.
As the sun sets.
The branches say farewell to the light
I feel the cool chill on the breath of the darkness.
Emotionless to the coming night.
My tears will not wash away my fears.
Not when the moon is shining.
Definitely
Not in the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem