Writing Poem by Vera Sidhwa
Writing
Writing
Writing, it makes me happy
When I'm typing a sad song
For the words typed
Released my malaise.
The wrong done to me
Is invisible to the world.
There was no window.
There was no witness.
Only I knew the sense of torture.
Others did not.
It sizzled and was hot
To be touched even by a flame.
The flame blew me out
Of the plane's window.
It's blast were bigger
Than anyone could here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/18/2024 8:32:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
