Living in another world.
Is another version of me.
Hidden within the walls of my flesh.
Leaves my soul weaken by one knee.
It alters my breath and taints my words.
It has an inner voice within my breath.
False feeding my heart with a molded spoon.
Repeating its psychotic rhythm like a hypnotic tune.
Living in another world.
Is another version of me.
Knocking on the walls of its flesh.
Leaves my heart sore so, I'm weakened and down on one knee.
I hear its wallowing in self-pity, the remembering of those dreaded words.
I can't bear, I cannot fear its last breath.
It was for its own good so I first licked the molded spoon.
I comforted and sang it a harmonic, loving tune.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem