I never buy, whats bought.
What was bought, I can never buy.
Again.
When.
The copper corpse which brassed silver.
To feel more like steel.
Derailed by train.
Succumb to what you weaved.
One or two sleeves.
Does not brand a thief a thief.
The have to, read what you need.
I am the worst kind of perfect.
What i project into the riddles.
I cannot find.
Which is hidden in my hide.
The fountain by sound.
Was found in the valley of Sad But Never Happy.
So I squared my round.
To be more of a tree to a dog.
One which shades and protects.
As the one which presents a bark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem