I sad,
I cry,
Inside slowly,
listening to the
tick-tock
of my ancient clock,
I die.
I stare at the
empty shell casing,
the brassy glint,
a wicked reminder,
I look up,
at the holes
in the ceiling,
partially hidden.
I am still angry,
I am still bitter,
I missed the
target that night,
I am still here!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem