She built me up,
than broke me down,
to a poet without words.
The sentence for the man of death,
when screamed is still not heard.
Painters paint by seen of sight,
but for the blind the colors stay.
So far away like dark of night,
and beauty cant remain.
Pounds of drums can cover screams,
upon the battle fields.
Grass can grow to bring disguise,
of graves that battles yield.
She built me up,
than broke me down.
Tis when I learned,
tears have a sound.
I like this... you will never have trouble with that your a great writer and person...W
A really nice emotional poem. I can feel the pain you describe. Hugs, Donna
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is truly a master piece. I love it. such a simple thing turned into greatness. good job my love. your tears may have sound but they will always be comforted by my voice. PYT