Whenever you lost your mind
Wherever you deserted your kind
You think your skills were left behind
Just as dumps and harmony
High crowns and lowly trash
Blend yourself in dismemberment
impending applied chemistry crash
Drop me off at the nearest headache
Since my understanding lingers within a receding hairline
It's near the shores of Chicken Hill Lake
Plots of ruin staining a perfect smile
and to witness my demise
is a blessing in disguise
while its flowing down the overfilled vile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem