In the hearts of the lost
the sould of the weakened weap
for what is gone
can never be found again
lost in its thoughts of endless torture
Its unrevealing fantasies haunt its inner self
killing it slowly
without signs of pain in its eyes
its dreams
slowly weakening it
it becomes what was feared by all
nothing more...
and nothing less
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem