I'm not who I once was;
I am becoming a tree,
a tree with nothing but flowers beside me,
a tree with no emotions and senses,
watching my fellow slowly wither away.
A tree who sees everything,
from the wickedness of my fellow
and their corrupted mind,
losing hope in my own kin.
Feeling the passing breeze,
I wait for the day until
the last leaf falls off the ground
and ends my suffering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem