Rancid infections desires contained,
Chained at the leg, your every move controlled,
A vault of secrets for your mind to hold.
Hidden scars and fake smiles,
Tired of life, but happy to keep the wife.
Need a change,
Yet everything is out of range.
The sleeping snake is feeling dead,
Face is fat, bloated and red.
Life is flowing by, with it is your prime,
Want to relax, yet you have no time.
She smiles and it angers you,
for she has robbed your plans.
Even under the covers her hands,
iratate instead of envigorate.
At night you dreams of sluts and whores,
Whislt she dreams of household chores,
During the day you pay
for what she no longer offers.
Scared to move on, you rot together,
Would you change things. Never.
For you need her to feel complete,
Your life is lived when you are asleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Better to be alone than the choice your poem offers Vincent, but that is just me. It's got to be love you see! There is nothing like it, and once you have had it, nothing less will do. Sad for me, but true. 10 from Tai