My mind is like a zoo
in Australia.
Where every thought is venomous,
poisonous,
or has pointy things
trying to kill me.
But a functioning psycho
rarely goes through with their ideas.
they just analyze and imagine
the unthinkable.
Occasionally,
like Steve Irwin,
I manage to wrestle an idea
to the dusty desert ground
And shape it to my will.
So I put it in a cage
and tag it with a title.
give it a cute name like Bao Bao
and present it to all who care enough to visit.
But..
Caged animals,
are not
happy animals.
Lock your doors,
Bao Bao is coming.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem