Betwixt the spaces upon my soul
Resides my dilapidated want for love
Where once was a jubilant and wanting bird
Now lies a decrepit and jaded dove
With broken wings
She's fixed unwanting
To the cold and hardened earth
Transfixed so gauntly
Upon her perch
Her eyes are filled with painful mirth
For she has been cast to the shadows, cold
With nigh a heart to spare
Will you help her fix her broken wings?
Would you dare to love a broken thing?
Or do you really even care?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem