Sadness of being alive is a misfortune unheard of unless
you are a child dying inside.
Telling the truth of hell, while living it is a gamble
of love, it will likely be taken away, leaving you alone.
There are no reasons or answers for knowing what you know
in hidden spaces, yet reality places it all into memories
which remain faithful.
Trounced upon by everyone in life, hurt, turned away, full
of grief and never-ending needs, continually ignored.
Placating necessities of numerous excuses, sitting on the
side, staring, knowing themselves they are but lies.
Hints of things done in years gone by haunt this child's
mind with fear and shame, taking drops of life and energy,
burying them in shifting plots of ground, sanctioned by
supposed love of parents.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem