Stuck I am in Hate's quicksand:
Sandy is my heart.
Kicked, you, dirt right in my face;
Like sand I blew apart.
Many tears did wet my chest
And now I'm kin to mud.
Stuck; I am of Hate's quicksand,
But still I've some good blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the thought process behind this...good flow too...nice work Kyle.