Dies Irae I hum the tune
Yesterday they buried me
Durt in my mouth, no money for a box
The maggots keep tearing at my skin
But I never let the little things bother me
Sing a song that makes you cry
But I still live in the ground you see
My purge is over now so on the brightside
If I could feel now, I'd feel alive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem