The heart is not thy mind for it taken me,
this long to realize.
Though I am know the shadow of my own grave.
I followed my maker in a violent rage, why me I ask.
Like he can hear me I watch how he survive in life.
The tear's was more than I ever seen before.
The pain which doesn't excuse his actions but
give me closure when I felt his struggling passion.
One day at a time the world seem more than blind.
Why can't they find what I see forgiveness should not only
ly in me.
In a way I thank him for my death which open me up
and gave my heart breath.
I see what he see and it impossible to live in his shoe's.
When thier torn to the bottom of his soul and the pain is superior.
I change once when I saw.
The inner deference of sight beyond his exterior.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem