She is too broken to fly
To soar high in the sky;
I feel sorry for her for she has lost
What she loves most.
But she designed her fate
As she took off too late
To change Fates desire
To take what it cannot aspire.
Because Fate is not living
It is death,
It has always taken its toll
Always on a roll.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem