I’ve become weak
Lost and alone.
With tears of sulphur
And a heart of stone.
I’ve become nothing
A speckle in time
Thoughts became illegal,
Feelings a crime.
I’ve become a follower
Hands, tied by love.
I sit and watch the crowded graves
The killing of the dove.
I just fail to feel alive.
We fight and we brawl
And then, as we die
We stare at the whitewash wall
And cry.
Huddled in the corner,
Watching you point and stare
“See that poor girl
She’s dying over there”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is very powerful Bridgid. Nice work! Sincerely, Mary