Not superficial,
real inside,
something was ruined.
Tonight I will walk out in dark
beyond me.
Creased,
under tyranny of love,
wanted to unwrite the script
in the stampede of sins.
Impeachment
throws up the shock syndrome.
No wish to swim back.
Drowning, clutching my truth.
A mystic paradox?
Million faces of yes or no.
Wrinkles are getting larger.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lines - striking.. like the reader is caught in this compelling shockwave. it's awesome!