Do not be scared of the darkness child,
Or what lies within.
Can you feel the rough worn feathers,
Of that angels jet black wing?
You shout and cry and yell and scream,
But the figure shall not revive.
She’s too dragged down and then wound up,
By the pain she’s locked inside.
You try and see that angels eyes
As the girl begins to sing.
The darkened and mysterious song,
Perhaps this angels’ hymn.
Her sweet, sweet voice sounds so alive,
But her body looks so dark.
Her tightened grip of interlocked fingers,
Slowly begins to part.
She now reaches out towards your body
A pale, soft but haunted hand.
And she glares at you with bright blue eyes,
Silently she pleads somehow, for you to understand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a pretty little poem! Good stuff