Perhaps my soul is coin-operated;
It sits somewhere in or around my being,
Closed by a lock on the top,
Engraved with a truth:
“Insert Compassion And Understanding.”
Opened, and I owe you something.
Should it take eternity to discover what that is,
I hope you’ll live for eternity and a day,
Just to savor the bliss.
Perhaps my mind is sealed up tight?
Restraints conceal the fear of short sight.
Creatively wield a knife
To reveal workings of my life.
Broken, and I owe you something.
In the words I write
Or the words I sing?
In the battles I fight
To defend you, innocent thing?
When words cannot further explain
The beauty from such a longing pain
A poet might stop the stanza.
When words can no longer outline
The beauty of one’s intricate design,
A poet should stop the poem
Before pointless words rattle on
Like the echoes of yesterday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem