Her Own Disease Poem by Tasha Miller
Her Own Disease
It’s nothing but madness,
a child bleeds sadness
and no one ever sees.
And it’s sad but true
when that child is you,
yourself, you can’t please.
That small child in me
just can’t let it be,
and let it heal with ease.
Will she ever learn,
and try to discern
that SHE, is her own disease?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
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I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 5:51:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Excellent...Your writing is a cathartic outlet for you, I sense. The same is true for me. This poem is so true.