Your cold heart, melt it
bitterness from my brother, it kills.
My head is filled with smoke granades
cover it up, like make up, lieing faces
It was her birthday, when he denied his
Please lie to me, lie to me, say everything is fine
Just a small portion of food to not lose weight
Just a small portion to not start dieing, again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem