I've spent so much time in that Hell,
So much time there, wishing I was dead.
Now as life pulsates though my body,
I find myself lost in a world void of pain.
A free man not yet free from the lingering tastes
Of blood and various cures they filled me with.
Not free from the ringing screams I could not recognize,
Yet originated from my own dying throat.
These horrid memories, like bars,
Trapping my soul in a cell of the life I once lived.
I am not free, for I can not function without fear,
Nor thrive without pain occupying every limb.
And as I gaze upon the reflection of a healthy man,
I see in his eyes the only life he ever knew,
The life of dying...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem