Do you even know what's happening with my soul?
It's been twisting, it's been shouting -
I've got the poison in my roots, and in my
Being; it's spreading to every inch, ever quartered section.
When they look at my skin, they say
'She's got the devil in her, leave him alone'.
But I need rest too, where's my reprieve?
The angels are nearer to me than most would believe.
Every crack and dent of mine fills deeper with sand,
And I can barely breathe. I don't know how I still stand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Life does have trying times