It was a duller, cooler color than what they wanted to believe.
His corrugated skin
The east sun
stretched
white as the dilapidated
milk she drinks,
sip by sip
How can one live so long
without the orange of the
trim weeds sucking all that was pink
It didn't want to die.
passed through the years like
the diamond sees its shave
What in hell
can the peace do for him?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem