you told me it would get better;
i was confused when i realized
but i'm getting used to
the lonely loud sound of silence
the company of memories.
and wishing yesterday
was the present.
the sting never wears off
but i'm growing numb to to the fact
i'll never have my life back.
and never fully being intact
you were wrong, okay?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem