This heart and spirit have been broken to bits, beyond
repair, there's no way to salvage any of the pieces, I
just don't care anymore.
Having lived a life of sacrifice to help others, now
only sacrificing myself, having lost everything that
meant something to me tonight.
Not able to see my way clear to exist any longer, this
is goodbye, for I can no longer hold on to life, there's
just nothing left in it for me.
Beyond Repair! With the muse of pains. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hugs! Hold on dear RoseAnn, a poet's heart can be teared, shredded, smashed, but shall be back with more power, as the poet soul might die a thousand times but will jump back standing straight, high, a thousand and one. Pain is the main course of a poet's dinner.