Walking down the street
They look at me differently
Staring into my busted soul
The secret is out
Fingers are pointed
Glances are thrown
Sympathetic stares hidden
The secret is out
Local gossip reigns
Unanswered questions
To a time they never knew
The secret is out
Pieces are matched together
Creating a faded picture
Framed in shattered glass
The secret is out
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
C.R...I like the term...'busted soul'...it's a different version...but very effective! Hugs, Dee