God will give me patience
to deal with evil things.
He will block it out for me....
I hear the angels sing.
My mind's become polluted
with mean and cruel remarks.
This poem will be my cleansing
from the big dog's lonely barks.
I've fallen far from virtue.
I took that poisoned bite.
At least I regained composure
before the title fight.
No longer will I worry.
I won't reach out my hand.
You made your bed, now lie in it.
I'm sure you understand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
OK Mary I've got thus far in reading all your poems but this one is a bit of a shock. Such bitterness, such sadness, such artistry. You're a bit of a chameleon