When I walked in with mother's things
you exploded how dare I bring in more
things just when you were getting rid of
everything that causes clutter, this big
suitcase should be burned and mother
should be shot and the whole old age
home burned to the ground for your
sacred peace of mind, never bring in
mother's things or anything else that
takes my fancy - kill the world as long
as your castle stands unscathed and
clean, shining bright like the kitchen
after your tidying, nothing left except
the rules and your own holy being!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem