Remorse filing insides with sharpened tears, cutting and
scraping life out like a d and c.
Anger holding on, causing agonizing moments fraught with
pain and sorrow.
Longing for peace, finding that there is none, running
away, hiding in deepest Africa, out of sight, away from
a mind.
Sorting out feelings and memories that lie, destroying
life within.
Unable to answer reasonable questions, seething inside,
boiling over, pretending nothing is happening.
Smiling, looking for something pleasant to think of,
holding on to the only pleasure left - that of death.
No other will suffice, choking on this device, supposedly
being in love and marriage.
It is only the deranging of a woman's personality and
being, man sucking his pride, lashing out, cruelly
perpetrating a crime worse than death - that of domestic
violence.
Death as anyone can see, is happily and readily looked
forward to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem