We're looking for a love
A love, that will make the hurt subside
But the love we find brings us closer to our death
Our bodies are tools
Tools, that dig deeper into the soul of desire
But the awl, is chipping away our peace
We are numb
We are fragile
with an iron casting
Truth is set aside for deception
and the plate of mercy is hidden in the drawer
We blur our minds
with flesh colored wine
We're looking for respect
a respect, that we, ourselves, cannot even see
So we give and we give until the pieces are stripped away
Our bodies are defeated,
defeated by our bloody palms
Tools, in hand,
looking for a love
set in an iron-cast
we are nothing but a shell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem