The figure is silhouetted
against the setting sun.
The figure seemingly growing larger,
and then it begins to run
Screaming his lungs out
no one in sight
to hear what he has to say,
no one to stop the fight-
going on on his mind.
Contemplating whether he was sane,
if he really was
feeling all of this pain.
As he runs
his screaming begins to disappear
as there was nothing left to scream for,
only his mind to fear.
Now sitting calmly on the mountain
he stares at the emptiness he sees.
Now just whispering out
all of his painful pleas.
The silhouetted figure,
now stands and walks away.
Because nothing was listening,
to what he had to say!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem