As he’d walk along a stream,
He’d see his reflection with gleam.
He saw a lonely soul with sorrow,
Trapped in a damned dream.
He never tried to show his mad,
Just went by with what he had.
But always thought there’s no answers,
Of why he lost his heart so sad.
It just burned him from the inside,
To him it was just something to hide.
Just like trying to drug his problems away,
To get away from the world and fly.
He just layed and cried,
Just wanted to have died.
He tried to keep a knife from his wrist,
But he’d just give in and sigh.
As he layed in a stream of blood,
His soul filled with a flood.
He held his vacant heart,
And it’s pulsed was just a dud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem