Alone, she sits in the dark
with her heart in her hands
as the tear drops cleanse the wounds.
She cries.
No one's there to console,
not a caring soul to be found
alone in the dark, mouring.
She cries.
The presence is nonexistant,
the warmth is absent
as her heart, drowns in growing agony.
She cries.
Alone she is, sad she'll be
until love decides to set her free.
When this shines into her hope filled eyes,
She'll cry no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very sad, but also hopeful. I like how you said 'tears will cleanse the wounds.' Tears can be very cleansing indeed. Keep up the good work!