Standing there at the funeral
of the son you once had,
you hold back on the tears
for fear of acceptance
of the boy you continually hurt.
Spewing him out of your world
from beginning at birth.
Never wanting it
to end up this way.
Your hate
killed that lonely son you had,
who only wanted to live
that life he had.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem