Looking at you is like looking at him,
I may have his eyes,
But thats nothing compared to you,
You remind me of him in personality,
Not just in the way you look,
And the way you do your hair,
You yell at me,
Like he yelled at my mother,
You hit me,
Like he hit her,
With an angry expression,
Upon your burnt, round face,
Hatred upon your piecing eyes,
It makes it unbearable to see that face.
Call me what you like,
Those names will never hurt as much as my scars,
And I can't wait for the day I leave,
Because then I'll finally be free of him,
And you,
His mirror image.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem