When true beauty suffers
I feel everything
The hurt, the pain
All of it
Crying with each tear cried
Asking the same question, of why?
Stomach turning, sickening senses
Emotions so strong within
No regrets
If only it was a way
To take away the pain
Would rather have it all
Than feel true beauty suffering
Wish I could use these healing hands
To cure every last pain
Would even give each touch away
The warmth it all
Even if my grip became an agonizing defeat
Towards a bewildered unending descend
To sacrifice
Only to gander new strength
Being able to cure all that I can
I wish I could very well do so
Even if it made me weaker
Every single day
And in the end
I would never need to be a hero
Just a wounded soul
That did everything he could
To make sure happiness
Was all around
Call me weak
Call me strong
Call me naïve
It never matters
Because I am me
That is all
When true beauty suffers
I feel everything
The hurt, the pain
All of it
And that always comes with no shame
I will always be strong in the end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem