Is There Anyone Who Likes Poetry?

Is there anyone who likes poetry?

this is my own poetry i wrote and translated into English! im sorry if it doesnt really make sense haha

The Reflection’s Whisper

My longing is stronger, so hard to defy,

heavier than shadows that blur every lie.

From my own reflection, the darkness calls,

with morning’s light, the image falls.

"Come... come on, don’t hesitate!

Throw your life away—it’s not too late!

Before the pain can strike once more,

you’ll be long gone behind church doors!"

My mirrored voice whispers low,

I shake my head—what does it know?

"Oh, what must I do to make you see,

so my own reflection lets me be?

I know that peace in endless rest

is wrong... but oh, it tastes the best."

I lift my gaze and meet its eyes,

a hand is reaching—offering ties.

"Take my hand, come follow me,

no more pain, just endless sleep."

Slowly, I lift my trembling hand,

our fingers meet—and I’m pulled in.

A world of black and white surrounds,

I wander lost, no peace is found.

"Oh my God, forgive my crime!

I want to live, just one more time!

My life was fragile like a flower,

I see it now, this final hour."

Barefoot I walk on roads so cold,

the morning dew so soft yet bold.

Before me stands a chapel tall,

inside, I step—then see it all.

Figures dressed in mourning black,

sorrow weighing on their backs.

I hear them weeping, lost in grief,

tears like rain, no hope, no relief.

I step in closer—then I freeze,

what I see brings me to my knees.

My lifeless body, pale and still,

lying there against my will.

"Oh, don’t cry, I’m still right here!

Trapped inside the glass so clear,

lured by whispers, drawn too near."

But none can hear me, none can see,

my voice is gone—lost completely.

Guilt consumes me, cold as stone,

from head to toe, I’m all alone.

My chest is aching—grief or death?

I cannot feel my final breath.

The earth embraces me at last,

my faith has faded—buried past.