altogether hanging on crosses
of our own makings,
martyrs to there rising suns,
a thousand tears now making up the ocean i am drowning in,
with no will to be rescued
i am not a damsel in distress,
no only a girl,
whose mascara runs to mark the time,
days and hours
where footsteps alone stood,
bearing her goddesses n gods,
up the treacherous hills of,
passing years, n unkept promises,
safe in there jars n trinkets littered
across her gypsy's room,
like a treasure treast,
a dragons lair of nights spent unalone,
the fear passing in and out with
the essential and easy act of breathing,
1 more birthday candle lit,
another year of things yet new,
a wish to be counted and placed,
wherever wishes go,
a prayer of thankfulness to friends and family,
n enough drinks to forget this day exists,
the shock of life that passes itself,
in tears of outrage n fear,
even as at this moment another child passes from its mothers womb....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem