He tailored it for laughing,
Behind all laughs were indigent tears.
Rolling down his cheeks in annihilation.
He concealed his emotions behind a fib,
Feeling futile, deep inside.
That soul was fading, a slow death,
Now that he couldn't grasp on any further.
Something looked mislaid, life was bleak,
Still, no one knew what he had planned.
He pretended, as if he was impeccably fine,
Every minuscule went by as a blur.
Craving to know, Was it his lapse?
He loved her profoundly, but nobody knew.
Every Soul realised, but it was done,
They found him hemmed in his own Blood..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem