What is worth living when even the most beautiful Doves die?
What is life when no one can hear you cry?
Even the most starry nights have to end some time.
The beauty to the sunshine just seems to never rise here in this nightmare in on this wonderful moon-lit night.
how do we cry when our tears will soon dry?
how can we die when we're already dead inside?
really we are already died inside, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
poignant and touching!