A toothless, timeless existence hides within me,
Yet I still hope for a better time, a brighter one,
Where people truly understand each other without the need to nod,
And where each of us holds our own freedom of speech.
I don’t know how to be what I’m not, for I never have.
I could not fit into different moulds,
So I often sat alone behind four walls,
Wondering what my purpose in life might be.
Then, when I was left alone, I realised one thing:
That no one in the world can be a true friend
Except for a mother, who loves her child the most.
Perhaps I searched too much for others around me,
I turned a little hope into true love.
So often I waited for a better time,
There, around the street’s corner, the dark colours of despair were painted.
My hopes, overpainted and weary, became the prey of loneliness,
Because I still failed to see how desolate my life was.
I did not have the right people by my side
To point out the path in which I often lost myself.
Don’t break my hopes, dear (not) people!
I still have the strength to take steps forward.
But the question is—could you ever defeat yourself,
Knowing that you lie about me, though you have never met me?
And while I ask myself, a new day slowly comes to meet me,
With new thoughts to remind me that it is not all about me.
Only the things of inestimable worth lie in my hands:
Myself as a character, and my heart as the lesson for the wiser souls around me.
With a dash of wisdom, I seek the story of my truth,
And as the years pass, I still feel just one thing:
That, after all, I am the one who strives to make others happy,
And cannot seem to make myself happy at any moment.
I keep quiet and bow my head, as I do today, for I know no other way,
Though I know that one day I will break—and for a reason.
Then I shall ask myself whether the others around me are to blame for this,
Or if it is my silence where so many of my hopes have been broken.
