Broken in the eye of the beholder
Tempted in the eyes of the weak
Stealing my glory
Losing my will to speak
Fallen like so many angels
With nothing to keep me from
Sleep
Forgotten in the eyes of those
With no secrets to sew
Desirable to those who move
With nowhere to go
No shoulders for tears
With no room to grow
There’s nothing for me to do but
Sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this poem Bri. I think we have all been there at some point in our lives.