Sun Poem by Silver Akira
Sun
When the sun rises,
We fall to the ground,
Blood staining our hands,
Murders from the past,
Haunt us day by day,
Nothing we do seems to help,
Our internal decay,
As blood falls to the floor,
Death surrounds us like a broken dream,
Still we remain,
Praying the deaths are fake,
And hoping that all that is wrong,
Will soon be right in this world,
Where people die,
And others cry....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 1:59:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
It's hard to tell if this is true or made up by a mind that's blue but still a read it was to me and one that I was glad to see