A stone, once luster filled,
is now cold to the touch.
The warmness it housed,
is all but gone.
It feels no pain,
no remorse nor sadness.
No hatred nor envy,
no insecurities or even sorrow.
It does not have happiness,
love nor compassion.
No excitement or eagerness,
all significant memories, seized.
It has lost all empathy,
never to celebrate life.
Purgatorial to some,
until it's angel of light arrives.
My heart just is...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem