My heart is but a grain of sand,
a broken shard of something grand,
dispersed across a frozen land,
for reasons none can understand.
My soul is but an empty shell,
forged within the fires of hell,
born of dreams I cannot tell,
enslaved by fears I cannot quell.
My life is but a cruel disguise,
a role no mortal would reprise,
a play the very gods despise,
this torment hidden in my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem