We are made from broken parts, we lay on the floor and sadden without understanding and not willing to moving around.. When we are are finely sick of nothingness is when we start to move around and start to build what others are not ready to do.. We may not get it right the first few times, but slowly we build our self up and we are no longer on the floor..We just have to realize we were something before we started to build……
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem