She looks back at old photos,
That's not her she must disclose.
She looks like me,
That's clear to see.
There's something odd,
This must be a fraud.
For she looks glad,
And I look sad.
She is beaming,
And I am screaming.
She has hope,
And I can barely cope.
Though this is me,
When I was still free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem