I do not forget…

I don't forget that wound,
Open for a year,
I don't forget the new voices
Which in ruins are silent from pain.

I don't forget the word "mom",
It was gone in just a moment,
I don't forget the number 57,
Who is still suffocating with envy.

57 roses sprouted,
Red me 28 thorns,
Weep and the stars that were not spared,
But they messed up 57 loves…

Stenachoria herself is crying,
57 times they carved it 28,
The Years themselves cry,
They fear the bloody past…

I do not forget, Well, the lamentations,
For those who will live forever,
I don't forget them 57 beats
Where did they leave us in that winter...