Tear out the stuffing of your soul
it needs not healing but more pain.
Who says forgive the devil's deeds
has never felt self-pity's needs.
They flash the book at you, my friend
and urge you turn the other cheek.
It will be more in tune with peace
if you will go and join the meek.
Pink faces, warm with gentle smiles
will nod, encouragingly so,
while sweeping guilty dust aside
it leaves you just one choice. To go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
From cute and cunny creepy-crawlies to the doom and gloom of this poem. Keep releasing. G.