A thousand cuts, radiating pain
Pearly red drops quiver, at some places
Angry red gashes, close at others
Each, an agonized story untold
Every move, hurts.
The only choice is the degree of pain
Not in the physical plane which is,
Masked by a cheerful masquerade.
But when the heart bleeds from a thousand cuts,
Sometimes, the pain is, so real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fantastic ending. Like my poem 'Gullotine'. This is even better.