You were perfection,
You were so flawed.
Awake in your coffin,
A box full of God.
A head full of falsehoods,
Lips taste like distain.
The walls speak your secrets,
Describing your pain.
But I still heald strong,
To the ghosts of your past.
Counting each new sin,
Forgiving the last.
Oh, how I loved falsehoods,
A hard boot to the face,
And sweet fascist behavior,
Which no love can replace.
Your screams of aggression,
No longer fall on deaf ears.
And you are no less the vampire,
Who fed off me for years.
A blade to your temple,
I grew disgusted by you.
With your unbridled passion,
For the rack and the screw.
I had lost all my feelings,
By time the service was through.
But I still wear this red letter,
As a tribute, to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem