Innocents of the soul.
We lye broken.
We lye whole.
Others are burning.
But we are cold.
Our hearts are berieved.
Our minds are troubled.
Never to be relieved.
Only to be doubled.
We live the depths.
We live in our pain.
We are the night dwellers.
We are the insane.
We are innocent...to our own affliction...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem