afterthoughts
dark or pale
like skin
touched by fire or wind
in mourning or delight
in selfish dreams
or aspiring to noble chin
in fright
when ankles to
despair and doom
our dislike and
distrust those moments
reflecting upon our weaknesses
as our strength becomes
less evident
stupid bow down head
empty upon molded ground
we could have
done better than we did
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem